


Rock the Cradle

by ItsClydeBitches



Series: Rock the Cradle [1]
Category: Jupiter Ascending (2015)
Genre: (I feel like that should be a warning), (I'd be cursing too let's be real), (but seriously), (much silliness), Crack, Drinking, Drunkenness, Gen, Humor, Kink Meme, also some language, awkward space-wolf-angel boyfriend, because Jupiter is a young woman with a whole shit ton of weird stuff to deal with, cool bee family, fedora-bashing, lots of Chicanery, mentions of abuse, stollen Star Trek lingo because idk what to call space things
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-03-24
Updated: 2015-07-02
Packaged: 2018-03-19 09:09:05
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 10
Words: 46,032
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3604479
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ItsClydeBitches/pseuds/ItsClydeBitches
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Fill for the kinkmeme prompt: </p><p>"One of the Abrasax gets de-aged as a 4-6 year old or whatever and mentally as well. That person then ends up screaming that 'they want their Mother. NOW!!' </p><p>Once they see Jupiter it's all 'Mama/Mother!' and wanting to be with her all the time, wanting cudddles, Mother, play time, Mother, naps and did I mention Mother? Basically baby duckling Abrasax, following her everywhere and being the sweetest thing (in their way) and Jupiter thinking that they are the most adorable person ever. </p><p>The De-ageing is only temporary and they remember everything when they 'grow up'."</p><p>NOW COMPLETE</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Hello! Please accept this ridiculous, weird, not exactly logical fic for an All of the Above film. Not exactly sure how many chapters this will be atm, but probably 4-5.
> 
> Also, the characterization of Chicanery as a drinker was inspired by this meta: 
> 
> http://gallifreyburning.tumblr.com/post/112319426744/fuckyeahjupiterascending-balem-with-the
> 
> Enjoy!

 

Finding Chicanery Night drunk in her family’s empty kitchen had been terrifying.

 

Finding Chicanery Night absolutely sloshed in her family’s very full kitchen was _so much worse._

Jupiter just stood there a minute, taking in the scene before her. Her aunt and three of her cousins were staring at Chicanery with varying degrees of disgust and unease. Though obviously not fully human—if one knew or assumed that aliens existed, of course—Chicanery had the (unfortunate?) ability to pass as someone violently ill. Or perhaps dying.

 

Skin pale as paper, red nose, red-lined eyes, a distinctly rat-like bone structure that might be explained away as weight loss in the right light... If it weren’t for the lack of wrinkles and his spry movements, most would have assumed that Chicanery was a particularly ugly, sickly old man—even with his white hair covered up by that god-awful fedora ( _what?_ ).

 

Of course, none of this was helped by his current drunk-off-his-ass state.

 

Chicanery raised his hand and twiddled his fingers at Jupiter. He mouthed a rather exaggerated, ‘Your Majesty.’

 

Oh my god. Jupiter’s purse fell from numb fingers.

 

And then her mother snatched up her free hand. With a squeak Jupiter was dragged backwards, out of the kitchen, watching as the rest of her family cast her pitying glances while stifling laughter (traitors). The last thing she saw was Anna leaning into Vera’s ear, no doubt calling dibs on Jupiter’s wardrobe once she was dead.

 

They didn’t stop until they were both outside on the stoop, sweating in the night air. Well. Jupiter was sweating. Her mom stood tall and solid, waiting for her to break.

 

Jupiter broke.

 

“I can explain,” she said.

 

Aleksa raised an eyebrow.

 

“I swear.”

 

The other eyebrow joined its pair.

 

“Like, double dog give the pooch a bone _swear_.” Jupiter winced. Shit. Don’t think about dogs right now. Just don’t.

 

“He…”

 

“Yes?”

 

“He’s…”

 

What? My pseudo son’s space advisor who may or may not have kidnapped you a few months back? A mostly human, but also part rat, and probably part con man alien? A random dude who wandered in thinking our house was a brewery and just happened to know your daughter’s nam—wait.

 

Jupiter’s eyes narrowed. “What _exactly_ did he tell you?”

 

Aleksa pursed her lips. She seemed to debate handing over that information for a moment. Finally, “Only that he was a friend of yours. Then he proceeded to demolish the vodka.”

 

“Oh.” Jupiter blinked. “Chicanery said we were friends? That’s disturbing.”

 

“Yes, it is!” Aleksa wacked Jupiter across the ear, making her yelp. “Creepy man arrives, demands to see you, and as you were out gallivanting with the boyfriend _you will not introduce us to_ ,” The last part was hissed menacingly. “He kindly accepts our offer of drinks while he waits. I can’t say I blame him, Jupiter. Knowing you often drives us all to drink!”

 

“Okay, okay, okay…” Trying to pull her ear to freedom, Jupiter spotted her salvation across the street: a woman hurrying home after a late night out, her long coat ruffling, her heels click-clacking across the pavement. Long and slim and blonde. There was only one other person like that in Jupiter’s life.

 

“He’s one of Katharine Dunlevy’s!”

 

Her ear was immediately released. “ _What?_ ”

 

“Yeah,” Jupiter nodded hurriedly. “Really. He’s one of her… friends. Technically number nine. Not that she’s going to admit to that.”

 

“No, I can see why not…” Aleksa peered closely at her daughter. “Truly? The pretty one who always lets you try on her clothes—which you shouldn’t be doing, foolish girl. That Dunlevy? I thought she had better taste.”

 

“Well, he’s very, _very_ rich, you see…”

 

“Ah. Still.”

 

“Oh I know.”

 

Aleksa’s smile suddenly dropped. “And what does this rich man want with you, hmm?”

 

“I have no idea.” What was that saying? The truth shall set you free? Jupiter danced a little anxious dance and hoped her mom would take the hint. “Why don’t we go back inside and let him tell us?”

 

“Humph.”

 

They did go inside and for ten precious more seconds, Jupiter kept it to herself that this conversation wouldn’t actually include an ‘us.’

 

***

 

“Our room!” Aunt Nino screeched as Vera turned her laugh into a coughing fit. Across the table her mother’s mouth dropped straight to the floor. Jupiter ignored them all.

 

“Get your heads out of the gutter,” she huffed. “We’re just going to chat. Aren’t I entitled to a little privacy around here?”

 

Jupiter was pretty sure that her family was giving a resounding ‘no,’ but she was a bit distracted by Chicanery. He’d snorted indelicately at the word ‘entitled’ and then began listing alarmingly to the left. Jupiter caught him around the shoulders, noting with surprise how light he was, until Chicanery jerked right out of her arms with a wince. His own hands rose to where she’d gripped his upper arms, like Jupiter had branded him instead of just offering support. He stopped just short of touching his own coat.

 

Whatever tipsiness he’d been indulging in seemed to evaporate. Chicanery looked everywhere but at Jupiter and her relations.

 

“I’m fine, Your… ah. Yes. Well. Perhaps we might speak then? Privately?”

 

“That was the plan,” and Jupiter ushered him into the bedroom as quickly as his wobbly legs would allow. She firmly closed the door on her family’s shocked expressions, resting her forehead against the wood and letting out a groan.

 

“I. Am. Dead.”

 

“I certainly hope not, Your Majesty,” came the equally painful words from behind. Jupiter whirled to find Chicanery sitting on her mother’s bed—dear god—massaging his eyes and attempting a half bow when he saw her looking his way. Instead of acknowledging the late courtesy Jupiter marched forward and snatched that fedora right off his head. She threw open the window and tossed the offending article out onto the street.

 

“I did need that to leave,” he sighed. “Unless _you’d_ like to explain the ears.”

 

“No need. I’ll be tossing you out the window next.”

 

“Your Majesty…”

 

“Don’t ‘Your Majesty’ me.” Jupiter hissed. “You’re drunk! And—and—” she waved her arms erratically. “And you’re just chumming with my family? The ones you kidnapped? What the _fuck_? And you’re totally drunk!”

 

“Yes. You mentioned that part.”

 

Vodka apparently did wonders for Chicanery’s sarcasm levels. Though still deferential, there was a definite mocking edge to his voice that Jupiter would bet Earth and all her assets he’d regret in the morning. Still, the rest of Chicanery was pretty messy: paler than his normal pale, more bleary eyed that his no-rest schedule usually produced, maybe even thinner than when she’d last seen him. Jupiter also didn’t miss how he continued to flinch whenever she got too close. With a sigh Jupiter forced herself into a more relaxed stance.

 

“Balem?” she asked.

 

“Of course.” Relieved to be back on familiar ground, Chicanery straightened to the best of his ability. “I assure you, Your Majesty, an emergency of this magnitude necessitated my contacting you, and as you’ve opted not to wire any communication devices into your nervous system…” he raised his hands, unrepentant.

 

“I do have a phone, you know.”

 

“Which is currently turned to silent.”

 

Jupiter’s hand flew to her jeans. “Oh… Wait. Emergency? And none of this explains why you’re _wasted_.”

 

“I am perfectly functional…” she heard him mutter. Then: “Lord Balem has…”

 

“Has?”

 

“Done what?”

 

Both of them jumped and turned to find Caine climbing in through the open window, his wings furling up to lay flat across his back. His eyes were locked on Chicanery and he was emitting a low, continuous growl. Chicanery, for his part, did an excellent impression of a mouse about to get mauled. With another sigh Jupiter stepped between them.

 

“I thought you were meeting Kiza and heading back to Stinger’s?” Yes. That came out as a whine. Jupiter so didn’t care right now.

 

“And then I smelled him.” Caine lay a hand on the gun at his hip. He cocked his head like he was still tracking the scent—and he didn’t like it. Whatever he smelled made his nose curl and stiffen.

 

“Right. Ground rule: no shooting when my family is right outside. In fact, no shooting, period. Caine?”

 

“…Yes, Your Majesty.” Slowly, Caine released the death grip on his gun. Chicanery started breathing again.

 

“Great. Now why don’t you close the window before anyone else shows up and then we can talk this out together?”

 

“Too late.”

 

Grinning far more than the situation warranted, Kiza came swinging in through the window too. She landed with a happy thump and turned to shut the window herself, briskly shaking out her arms, and then shrugging when the other three just stared at her. “What? The Queen’s dog ditches me for something exciting and you think I’m not gonna follow him? Please. Also, I found a fedora on the street?” Sure enough the battered hat appeared from behind Kiza’s back. “What’s been going on here?”

 

“Okay one, burn that. Two,” Jupiter pointed to her guest; looked to Caine. “You smell Chicanery from across town but not Kiza three steps behind you?”

 

Caine shuffled his feet. “I was focusing on you, Your Majesty…”

 

“And because I’m _such_ a threat,” Chicanery drawled. He leaned his head back against the wall and shut his eyes. “Can I have my hat back?”

 

“No.”

 

“Queen’s orders.” Kiza agreed. “Are you drunk?”

 

“Not nearly enough for this, I fear.”

 

“Cool.”

 

“Okay, seriously, would all of you just—”

 

“JUPITER.” The four of them jumped when a pounding sounded on the bedroom door. Jupiter clapped a hand over Kiza’s giggling mouth.

 

“Yeah, mom?” She called. “We’re good. Fine. Just give us a minute okay?” Kiza’s laughter increased tenfold until Jupiter had to elbow her in the stomach to shut her up. “Seriously. Be out in a sec.”

 

Tentatively, the footsteps retreated.

 

Jupiter dropped her hand and wiped Kiza’s saliva onto her jeans. “That’s it. Chicanery? You’ve got three seconds to explain before I really do toss you all out the window. And Caine is the only one who can fly.”

 

Still half-propped against the wall, Chicanery let out a shudder as if the very topic brought him physical pain.

 

“Very well, Your Majesty. The short of it is that Lord Balem has had a bit of an accident. He is now six years old.” It was blood-shot eyes that finally opened. “And he is demanding to see his mother.”

 

Silence reigned in the Jones’ bedroom. The three of them turned to Jupiter, each bearing their own, unique expression. Caine looked positively horrified, Kiza thrilled, while Chicanery gazed upon his former enemy with nothing but desperation filling his eyes. He appeared an instant away from getting down on his knees to beg.

 

Jupiter took a deep breath and smiled wide.

 

“Absolutely not.”

 

***

 

 “I’m, like, ninety-nine percent sure I said no to this.”

 

They certainly made for a merry band of misfits. Fearing her mother’s wrath, Jupiter had moved their insane conference out onto the street—making Caine fly them down one by one through the window, rather than braving the kitchen again. (He’d held Chicanery out at arm’s length and threatened to drop him. Twice). From there they’d called Stinger and gotten him to come out in his pickup, into which they’d all piled themselves. Why would a bunch of technologically advanced splices and an Entitled bother traveling by truck?

 

Because Chicanery forgot where he’d parked his ship.

 

“Seriously,” Jupiter said. Not that anyone was listening to her at this point. “What is even going on tonight?”

 

“I’ve been asking myself the same question, Your Majesty.” Chicanery said. He was up in the front seat next to Stinger, who was casting him about as kind a look as any. Still rubbing his head, Chicanery gestured vaguely over the dashboard while peering blearily ahead. “Left. I think.”

 

“How do you lose your ship, rat?”

 

“Ever downed an entire store of Perillian wine, bee?” Chicanery clucked his tongue. “Ah. Sadly that term doesn’t sound quite as derisive, now does it? Pity. And before you start casting judgment, legionnaire, I’d invite you to spend a month with Lord Balem as a juvenile and see how well you handle it.”

 

A shudder went through the whole truck at that. Jupiter was squeezed between Caine and Kiza in the back; Caine massaging her hands while Kiza absently braided her hair. She twisted awkwardly in her seat as her mouth slowly fell open.

 

“This has been going on for a _month_?” She asked.

 

“We have been attempting to fix things. Your Majesty, whatever else you might think of me, I am not dragging you into this mess purely for my own amusement.” (‘Purely,’ mouthed Kiza). “We had hoped to revert the process before Lord Balem’s requests grew too… vocal.” Chicanery pressed harder against the bridge of his nose.

 

“Fair enough. And this happened how exactly?”

 

“Soaking probably,” came Caine’s familiar growl. Seeing that his tone had stressed his Queen, he began kneading the edge of her palm again. Jupiter sighed and let her back fall more heavily against Kiza’s hands.

 

“It’s common among the Entitled,” he continued. Caine’s growl morphed into more of a soothing purr as his hands kept working their magic. “The ReGenX returns the genes—the body—to the height of their physicality. But if you stay in too long it can cause a reversion of shorts. You grow younger.” He planted a kiss against her knuckles, sucking a bit at the flesh there. “The Entitled sometime get tired of living in their thirties, or their twenties. Some enjoy looking juvenile for their sexual partners.”

 

“Ew,” Jupiter said. Not that she was in any position to judge when her space-werewolf-angel had moved to doing rather obscene things to her neck.

 

A rather forceful cough sounded from the front. “Caine,” Stinger said. “Have you forgotten that my _daughter_ is right behind the woman you’re currently ravaging?”

 

Kiza shook her head wildly. “No, no. I’m good. Don’t mind me.”  

 

“Gods.”

 

“I do believe this is the worst night of my life,” Chicanery intoned. “Left.”

 

“Nah. I’m pretty sure nearly dying a fiery death on my namesake planet was the worst.” Jupiter reluctantly pulled back, but not before planting another quick kiss on Caine’s lips. She resolutely ignored the sound of Kiza’s iPhone snapping behind her. With a whine Jupiter finally eased back completely and stretched her fingers out. Cleaning for a living was murder on the hands.

 

“Thanks for that,” she said. “Both ‘that’s.’”

 

Caine dipped his head and smiled. “Your Majesty.”

 

“Focusing then. Balem did this soaking thing?”

 

“Your dog is simplifying things for you.” Chicanery sighed. “Take a right. Yes, by that inflatable… balloon… thing. Gods know I remember flying over that. Now, he’s correct that soaking is a fairly common pastime among the Entitled, but never to an extent such of this. Soaking long enough to induce mental as well as physical regression… that’s unheard of.”

 

“Except for Liam,” Stinger piped up. He caught Jupiter’s gaze in the rearview mirror. “Legend has it that millions of years ago—this was before even the Abrasaxs, mind—an Entitled called Liam lost the love of his life and killed himself using ReGenX. Soaked until he was a child, then an infant, then…” Stinger trailed off, shrugging.

 

“Absurdity,” Chicanery muttered. “As you said, a legend.”

 

Kiza popped two sticks of gum in her mouth and said around it, “Besides. Who kills themselves using ReGenX? Just pick up a damn gun.”

 

“Thank you! Listen to the bee girl.”

 

“The name’s Kiza, a-hole.”

 

Rolling her eyes Jupiter pushed forward until she was effectively blocking the two’s view of each other. “Okay, kids. Keep it together. Do we care what people thought before? It’s obviously not a legend, right? This soaking thing happened to Balem.”

 

“We _believe_ it happened to Lord Balem, Your Majesty. The fact is that unlike other parties, Lord Balem does not enjoy an audience” (“Kalique,” Kiza, smirking). It is not unheard of for him to make use of his bath and then… ah, spend _time_ admiring his appearance.” (“Really.” Caine, growling). “No one knows for sure what occurred. We weren’t even aware that anything was amiss until the screaming started and by then, suddenly, I had a pint-sized Entitled to cater to.” Chicanery leaned his forehead against the cool glass, sighing softly.

 

“And this was a month ago?” Jupiter asked.

 

“Roughly speaking, yes.”

 

“Why would Balem do this?”

 

“I don’t know, Your Majesty.”

 

“How are they gonna fix it?”

 

“I don’t _know_ , Your Majesty.”

 

“Well what the hell do you expect me to do about it?”

 

Chicanery whirled in his seat as Caine threw an arm up to shield Jupiter. The advisor simply glared though, his fingers twitching along the armrest like pale, crazed spiders.

 

“You are his mother,” he hissed.

 

“I’m not,” Jupiter shot right back.

 

“Well you’re close enough!”

 

Caine got between them and with her nose now an inch from his skin, Jupiter could see the small hairs rising on the back of his neck. His thigh overlapped with hers and she could feel it trembling. Though the hand along her knee was tense, it wasn’t in any danger of bruising her. It was just a solid, reassuring weight.

 

“If her Majesty does not wish to babysit this Entitled,” he bit out. “Then she _won’t_.”

 

“Easy, Caine…”

 

“Isn’t it sort of a moot question at this point?” Kiza said, popping her gum. “You’re here aren’t you? Whine all you want, Your Majesty, but you kinda accepted the second you got in the car.”

 

“I did not,” Jupiter muttered. Yes, whined. Whatever.

 

“You did.”

 

“Didn’t.”

 

“Sooooo did.”

 

“Kiza,” Stinger said, low and strained. “Don’t fight with your Queen.”

 

Kiza rolled her eyes and went back to staring out the window. They all heard her mutter something about this Entitled stuff supposedly being more fun.

 

“What about Kalique?” Jupiter asked desperately. She gave a shocked laugh when the car remained silent. “C’mon! Surely Kalique is better suited for all this?”

 

But Chicanery was shaking his head. “As a younger sibling, Lady Kalique is a stranger to Lord Balem. He was well into his thousands when she was engineered. Not to mention, as I’ve said, Lord Balem is asking for his mother.”

 

“Titus?” Jupiter tried.

 

“ _Mother_ , Your Majesty.”

 

With a groan Jupiter threw herself back against the seat. A deferential cough sounded beside her.

 

“And if I may add, Your Majesty?” Caine said. He swallowed and looked like he was about to commit treason. He swallowed again. “Lord Titus also might not be the best guardian…”

 

“Because?”

 

“… because I’m not sure he knows how to interact with anything that doesn’t flirt.”

 

Chicanery snorted. “An accurate assessment. There are two ways such a scenario could end, neither of which are preferable.” He leveled Jupiter with a stare. “All the more reason for me to call on his mother instead.”

 

“But I’m not!” On her left Kiza winced and Jupiter apologetically patted her hair. “Sorry, sorry, but _seriously_. I’ve not his mom. I’m not _a_ mom, period. I don’t know how to take care of a kid, let alone a Balem-kid. I mean yeah, sure, I took care of cousin Mika for, what? Two days? That’s _it_. I’m gonna drop him on his head or feed him too warm milk or something equally horrible. Do six-year-olds even want milk anymore? And isn’t he gonna get suspicious when his ‘mom’ is suddenly a jean-wearing, ponytail, eyeliner sorta girl? I mean c’mon. Seraphi and I might be identical and all but we’re a little different in the personality department.”

 

“Your Majesty…” Chicanery paused, seeming to gather his words. “If I may speak freely? I do believe that the differences you speak of may play well to your advantage. Her Majesty Seraphi was... not the most maternal. At  least from what I have heard,” he amended. “As for your worry regarding Lord Balem’s memories, there is little chance that he knew his mother well enough by age six to truly recognize her.”

 

Something cold settled in the back of Jupiter’s throat. “What?”

 

“Is it surprising? A few years to an immortal is the mere blink of an eye. Leaving your child for that length of time is not so different from, well, leaving them with a nanny for the afternoon.”

 

“Oh, it’s different,” Jupiter said. Her voice dropped so hard and so fast that Chicanery reared back, his eyes widening. “I don’t care how long you live. You don’t leave a kid for _six fucking years._ ”

 

Kiza snapped her fingers. “And that is why you’re gonna be better at this than you think. Bet you ten bucks Her Majesty Seraphi never worried about milk.”

 

A solid silence descended on the truck. Despite how uncomfortable she still was, Jupiter felt her cheeks heating at Kiza’s words. It grew about ten-thousand times worse when Caine tentatively took her wrist, checked for permission, and then planted the softest kiss across the length of a vein. His expression held enough pride and heat to make Jupiter tremble.

 

“You’re not like them, Your Majesty.” He said, not for the first time.

 

“Amen to that,” Kiza laughed.

 

Stinger hummed an agreement from the front while Chicanery, peering up from where he’d ducked for safety, slowly nodded his head.

 

“At the risk of aligning myself with your pack,” he murmured (Stinger scoffed). “And working under the assumption that such conversations will not make their way back to Lord Balem once this nightmare is through,” Chicanery drew a deep breath. “They are quite right, Your Majesty. All I ask is for an hour. A half-hour even. Simply _see_ , Lord Balem. I guarantee he will benefit more from a short time in your company than all the robo-nurses combined.”

 

Jupiter smiled a wane smile. “And you’ll get a break too.”

 

“… yes. With my deepest gratitude.”

 

She outright laughed at that. “What makes you think I’m not gonna chuck him off the nearest high surface? He did try to kill me, my family, my whole damn planet...”

 

“Your Majesty.” Chicanery leveled a look that brooked no argument, not even in the presence of a royal. “The day you act with such malice is the day I retire. Permanently.”

 

“Humans, right?” Kiza popped her gum again, sounding oddly pleased. She nudged a moaning Jupiter in the ribs. “They’re weird.”

 

***

 

Miraculously, they did eventually find Chicanery’s ship. It was wedged between two townhouses and sporting more than a bit of damage to the paint. Jupiter clamored out of the truck and couldn’t help but let out a low whistle at the damage.

 

“Pseudo-enemies or no, when this is over and done with you and I are having a long conversation about drunk driving. Or flying. Drunk flying.”

 

“Yes, Your Majesty.”

 

Jupiter went to clap Chicanery companionably on the shoulder—he was still looking pretty sloshed—but he shrunk back, with more violence than he’d done in her kitchen. Jupiter froze with her hand halfway in the air and then, oh so carefully, leaned in close so that the others wouldn’t hear… and Chicanery wouldn’t startle.

 

“Real talk for a sec,” she whispered. “Don’t tell me mini-Balem has a stronger right than his grown counterpart?”

 

Chicanery let out a chuckle. It sounded strained though. “Certainly not. It’s the pitch of young Lord Balem’s voice that you need fear.”

 

“Then…?”

 

He shrugged. It looked about as natural as his chuckle had sounded. “It has been a long half a year, Your Majesty. Though the Abrasax dynasty has decided to put the unfortunate events at the refinery behind them—for the good of the family, you understand—Lord Balem is still taking the loss of Earth and your recurrence… hard.”

 

“So what you’re saying is he’s still a pissy, Oedipal brat who’s mad at me and taking it out on you?”

 

“I did not say that, Your Majesty.”

 

Jupiter raised her hand in a sudden, sharp gesture and Chicanery skittered back.

 

“Didn’t need to.” Her stomach tightened at the look on Chicanery’s face though. Shit.

 

“Oi, Your Majesty!”

 

With a final look at Chicanery, Jupiter followed Kiza’s call back to the truck. She was still crowded around the hood with her dad and Caine, all of whom were casting her uneasy glances as she approached. Jupiter knew what was up by the time she’d wormed her arms around Caine’s waist. She pressed her face against the bare skin of his arm, noting that wolf coat or no, he retained the heat of the sun remarkably well. Jupiter was more than willing to make use of him as a personal space heater—pun intended.

 

That, and she wasn’t quite willing to let go yet.

 

“You three aren’t coming, are you?” She sighed.

 

“It’s for the best, Your Majesty.” Stinger said. “Despite what the rat might say about Lord Balem’s memories, it’s not worth risking his rage for you to tote a collection of Splices along with you. Especially ones that have antagonized him in the past.”

 

“I don’t ‘tote’ you anywhere,” Jupiter said.

 

Stinger’s expression softened. “A poor choice of words. Just know that we make this decision based on what’s best for you.” He paused. “Of course. It’s not truly our decision to make.”

 

Caine nodded, dipping down to press his nose against Jupiter’s hair. “If you want us to come, we’ll come.” He said simply.

 

But Jupiter shook her head. “It’s fine. Really. Not sure I want you three laughing as I try manhandling a kiddie Balem anyway. You’ll wait though?”

 

“Right here,” Kiza promised, knocking her boot against the underside of the truck. “However long it takes.”

 

“Don’t worry. Won’t take long at all.” Jupiter leaned up to steal one last kiss from Caine, moaning when his hands briefly fell to press at the back of her thighs. They both heard the familiar click of Kiza’s phone.

 

Jupiter left reluctantly to rejoin Chicanery and as she did the last thing she heard was Stinger’s low voice chasing her back.

 

“Give me the phone, Kiza. Now.”

 

***

 

‘Won’t take long at all.’

 

If someone had repeated Jupiter’s words to her a week later, she would have laughed herself sick, downed a few shots, and possibly punched them. Caine had been teaching her a thing or two after all.

 

‘Won’t take long?’

Gods. 

 


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapter Two is here, friends! Thank you all SO much for the amazing reviews and kudos so far. I've been squealing the last few days. Like really. I JUST LOVE OUR SPACE FANDOM SO MUCH. *coughs* That is all. Enjoy! ;)

“Right this way, Your Majesty.”

 

Jupiter tried to relax as the transporter locked onto her and Chicanery, the ride a bit more wobbly than what she was used to. Not entirely surprising. Beyond the horror done to the ship’s paintjob, the beam itself was missing a few particles and the room they rose into had a sizable dent in the wall. Chicanery’s cheeks were a bright strawberry red by the time they were back on solid ground, which was particularly impressive given his natural coloring.

 

“I hit a lamppost,” he muttered.

 

“Of course you did.”

 

Joking aside, Jupiter grew tense the further into the ship they went, primarily because Chicanery was growing tense too. His shoulders turned to marble and he kept shooting slightly panicky looks Jupiter’s way. Was it that obvious that she wanted to bolt? Because she sort of did. And by ‘sort of’ she meant really, really, reeeeeally yes please, _now_. A miniature version of the galaxy’s biggest, glittering asshole?  Mr. ‘I’m Just as Likely to Kiss You As I Am to Throw You Into the Vastness of Space’? Lord Laryngitis? _No thanks._

 

It didn’t help that Chicanery kept whispering really awful advice.

 

“Just remember, Your Majesty, he is… temperamental. We’ve attempted to establish a routine of sorts, but Lord Balem has been quite against the prospect. I don’t believe he’s slept at all in the last forty-eight hours, ever since he grew insistent that you visit. He has a tendency to shout—obviously—and to throw anything small within his reach. He has remarkable aim, I must admit. I would also recommend not getting too close.”

 

 “Why? Is he going to pee on me?”

 

“No, Your Majesty. He bites.” Chicanery hesitated. “Though he may also urinate on you. I would further recommend not putting that idea into his head.”

 

Jupiter closed her eyes and prayed to any deity that might be listening. And no, that didn’t include the other Abrasaxs.

 

“How much do Kalique and Titus know?”

 

“Only the minimum. We couldn’t keep it from them, of course, but we’ve attempted to minimize how much the public hears. I can only hypothesize the amount of damage competing corporations could do if they were to learn of Lord Balem’s… condition. You will be the first to see him personally, aside from the AIs and myself.”

 

“Well that explains your drinking,” Jupiter muttered. “Possibly Balem’s temper too. What kid wants to hang with robots twenty-four seven?”

 

Chicanery scowled. “I assure you, Your Majesty. Lord Balem’s disposition is entirely innate.”

 

With that lovely assurance they passed into the transporter that would take them to the main ship. Jupiter’s initial reaction was relief that Balem hadn’t been on board when Chicanery was drunkenly steering through the city streets. The second reaction was more along the lines of, ‘Relief? _Really_? Jupiter, you are _not_ feeling relief for _Balem_.’ By the time Jupiter realized that she was thinking about herself in the third person they had arrived and that was all probably for the best.

 

Relief. Whatever relief was left evaporated when she heard the screaming.

 

“Yes,” Chicanery winced. “That would be Lord Balem.”

 

‘High-pitched’ wasn’t descriptive enough. ‘Pterodactyl screech infused with microphone feedback’ was a bit more apt. Jupiter’s hands twitched in a desperate need to cover her ears, but she valiantly kept them at her sides, stoic and firm. Chicanery had no such qualms. He slapped his hands over his no doubt sensitive ears and let forth a string of rather creative curses. Amidst her pain Jupiter mentally took some notes.

 

“I had hoped that he would have tired some in my absence,” he shouted.

 

“Yeah, well, you thought wrong!”

 

As they traversed the ornate corridors the volume increased and in time Jupiter could almost make out words. Nothing resembling any language she’d ever heard before. Nevertheless, it felt familiar to her. Like a remnant of Seraphi resided deep inside Jupiter, nodding her head in acknowledgment.

 

“Durasi!” Chicanery called. “A language spoken only among the Entitled. Lord Balem has refused to communicate in English or any other dialect that I am familiar with the last few days. It has made proceedings… trying.”

 

To put it nicely. The language was beautiful though, even couched in a young boy’s screech of a voice.There was a certain cadence to it, like it was closer to music than speech, and as they drew closer and closer to Balem’s rooms, Jupiter began to hear a rhythm beneath the screams: _One. Two. Three. Four-Five_. Again. _One. Two. Three. Four-Five._ And again. Over and over, three shorter beats followed by two close together. Almost like…

 

_Almost like three single-syllable words followed by a fourth_ , Jupiter thought.

 

Chicanery was still talking, telling her about how Balem had eaten nothing but Galactic Chocolates until he’d made himself sick, then sneered at everything they dared present to him, then refused to eat entirely for four days straight. Jupiter tuned him out for a moment, concentrating on that rhythm. She still couldn’t understand the words, of course, but the more she drifted—letting her legs carry her mindlessly, letting Chicanery’s voice dim to a hum—the more Jupiter felt _emotions_ hidden underneath. A few more hallways and she had it.

 

Power. Need. Possession. … Love.

 

That last word was infused with love.

 

“Here, Your Majesty.”

 

Jupiter’s eyes snapped back open and at the same time the words came to her, flitting across her mind like something from a dream:

 

_I want my mother._

 

Oh. Shit.

 

Coming out of that state, back to Balem’s shrieks, was like a punch to the gut. They’d stopped outside a massive set of doors and Chicanery was eyeing the doorknob with the same expression Jupiter had once turned on the mutt that had bitten her leg. (She’d said she loved dogs. Not _all_ dogs. Caine had threatened to track down the traitor and if promising to betray one of your genetic specie’s decedents wasn’t love, Jupiter didn’t know what was).

 

“In there?” She gulped, as if the volume emanating wasn’t evidence enough.

 

Instead of answering Chicanery half stumbled, half fell against doors and just shoved them open. Quick like a Band-Aid. She could respect that.

 

Out of everything, the first thing Jupiter noticed was the interior design. It looked like someone had taken the throne room from the refinery, miniaturized it, and just stuck it into this ship—which hell, maybe they had. Black marble stretched out across the floor, columns with disturbing designs towered overhead, and the whole space felt more sterilized than a hospital about to get a visit from the CDC. Jupiter’s first thought was that this wasn’t a room for a child, not even a Balem-child.

 

Then she noticed the occupants.

 

Two robo-nannies were off to one side and looked, if it were possible, pretty run down (Jupiter thought she saw sparks escaping from one’s head). They stood out starkly due to their white casing but even so, they weren’t what drew the eye. That honor went to a skinny little boy with a shock of black hair.

 

“Lord Balem,” Chicanery simpered. He shuffled into the dark room and Jupiter startled when she realized that she could hear his shoes upon the floor. The screaming had stopped. “I have brought…ah… that is…” Chicanery looked back at her, panicking slightly.

 

Jupiter forced herself to step forward. With a horribly dry throat she said, “Balem?”

 

The reaction was instantaneous.

 

One moment he was sprawled out on a lush couch, hands tearing at the fine fabric. The next Balem was on his feet and rushing towards her. Jupiter actually crouched her knees in preparation for an armful of space-kid, but at the last moment he skid to a halt, breathing hard. After that he went completely still.

 

It gave Jupiter the chance to actually look at him. Reed thin, locks that needed cutting falling into his eyes, a swarm of freckles dotting his face, and a mouth, overly large, that Jupiter knew he’d grow into. For now though it dominated his face and gave him a dorky look that his glittering robes couldn’t really compensate for.

 

Balem was, in short, _fucking adorable._

Jupiter knew in that moment that she was waaaaay over her head. Like whoa.

 

What wasn’t cute though was Balem’s expression. Snapping out of her examination, Jupiter noted that he was literally stone still, with his hands clenched behind his back and his tiny knees shaking. She knew that look. It was the look of a kid who’d somehow gotten what they’d wanted and now didn’t know what the hell to do with it. Balem looked _scared._

 

“Balem?” Jupiter said again. She tried to make her voice sound soft and gentle. It came out a little more like sandpaper.

 

Still, he chatted something back in Durasi that felt oddly formal. Then he bowed to her, his eye boring holes into the cold floor.

 

“Speak English, Balem.” Jupiter said.

 

He winced at that, backing up a step before snapping his legs together again just as fast.

 

“Greetings, Mother.” Balem whispered. “I…”

 

His mouth worked for a long moment until Jupiter realized with a shock that he was looking for an excuse, a reason for calling her. Her head snapped back to Chicanery but he was engaged with the nannies, his hands gesturing sharply, their mechanics whirring in agitation. Jupiter turned to Balem and found him in the same, stiff position. Waiting. Trembling.

 

_This is Lord Balem,_ a part of her whispered. _The guy who would gladly see you and everyone you know dead. He’s your enemy._

 

_Except,_ a stronger part countered. _He’s_ not. _This is a six-year-old boy who thinks_ _he needs a reason to ask for his mother. This is a_ kid _who looks two seconds away from bursting into tears._

 

Well that answered that. Jupiter dropped straight to her knees, making Balem’s mouth unhinge. He stepped back again, clearly wary, but all Jupiter did was open her arms.

 

“C’mon then.” She said (sighing only a little). “Don’t I get a hug?”

 

One second. One second suspended in cagy indecision before Balem was flying into her arms. Jupiter caught him around the waist and head, pressing his face into the crook of her neck and shutting her eyes when she immediately felt tears wetting her skin. Little hands clawed at the back of her shirt while his bare heels dug gorges into her sides. Jupiter thread her own hands through his soft hair and tried not to panic too much.

 

It was pretty clear Balem wasn’t going to let go and frankly, Jupiter didn’t have the heart to make him.

 

So yeah. Shit.

 

_God fucking damn it._

 

***

 

“I cannot believe this,” Chicanery muttered. He sat slumped in a chair with one hand propping his head and the other periodically pinching his thigh, as if he expected to wake from a dream any moment. He suddenly surged forward with an impressive amount of energy given the night—month—that he’d endured.

 

“I swear to you, Your Majesty, he was a menace!”

 

“I _believe_ you already,” Jupiter hissed. “So do you really wanna wake him up again?”

 

That shut Chicanery up fast. He leaned back again and confined his mutterings to a whisper. Even so, the bundle in Jupiter’s lap shifted uneasily. One hand though… one hand soothed down Balem’s back and he settled with a breathy sigh. Jupiter didn’t know whether to laugh at that or weep.

 

‘Menace’ was far from an accurate term, at least based on what she’d seen so far. After their Mega Space Hug of Crushed Ribs and Snot Stains, Balem had promptly passed out in Jupiter’s arms, doing little other than cuddling and murmuring a bit since. Seriously though, emphasis on the cuddling. When all of this was over Jupiter had every intention of asking Balem about his own genes, specifically finding out if he was secretly an octopus splice. It would make for some excellent blackmail.

 

Oh my god. She could collect _blackmail._

 

Oh my god. She was actually considering keeping him long enough to collect blackmail.

 

This was a nightmare.

 

“This is a nightmare,” Jupiter said. Chicanery startled and gave what might have been a laugh.

 

“This is _paradise_ , Your Majesty.” He countered. “I haven’t heard the ship this quiet in weeks. Our timely arrival also saved a few artificial lives, I might add. Lord Balem was apparently contemplating dismantling his nurses if I didn’t return in the next hour. Let me assure you, Model X-187.2 is exceedingly grateful and may well kiss you if run into her again.”

 

“I’m taken, thanks.”

 

With another sigh Jupiter soothed the cape-like clothes Balem was dressed in, making a few of the gems glitter in the overhead lights. It was ridiculous really. It looked like someone—Chicanery probably—had simply miniaturized Balem’s normal wardrobe without a thought spent on what a child needed or wanted. Same slicked back hair… same environment… fuck it. Jupiter didn’t care how rich you were. Give the kid a goddman pair of jeans. Honestly.

 

Jupiter looked back up to find Chicanery staring, his eyes bright. She instinctually pulled her hand away.

 

“What?”

 

“Nothing.”

 

“ _What?_ ”

 

“Well, Your Majesty…” Chicanery hesitated, one long finger tracing his lips. “I was simply wondering…” He stopped again, looking the most sober Jupiter had seen him all night. “I was simply wondering if I should have the servants pack a bag for Lord Balem?”

 

It was manipulation.

 

Insanity.

 

The last play of a desperate man.

 

Even so, Jupiter carefully leaned over a mess of black fabric and freckles to growl:

 

“Fine. But you owe me, Chicanery. _Big time_.”

 

He stood, gazing upon Jupiter with nothing less than devotion. “Oh, Your Majesty.” He sighed. “Truer words were never spoken.”

 

***

 

Twenty minutes later Jupiter descended from the ship, sans Chicanery, but with an added six bags and a child. She stood fidgeting under the fading light of the transporter as her friends and boyfriend stared.

 

“What?” she muttered.

 

“Nothing,” Kiza said, sounding like she was swallowing lemons (and god didn’t this seem familiar). After choking another moment she pulled her hands outta her jeans and slapped them palm up in front of Caine and her dad. With equal scowls they produced a stack of credits and a phone respectively.

 

Jupiter’s mouth dropped open. “You bet _against_ me?”

 

“Kiza bet on your kind heart, Your Majesty. We bet on your… fortitude.” Stinger tried to sooth. He grabbed four of the bags while Caine guiltily gathered up the rest. Kiza just cackled behind them, thumbing through the credits and snapping pics already. Jupiter instinctually went to cover Balem’s sleeping face (he was tucked against her side, head fitted against her neck and shoulder, drooling slightly) until something utterly marvelous occurred to her.

 

“You take a thousand pictures,” she instructed as they piled back into the truck. “A million, okay? And you send them all to me. Make sure you’ve got backups too. _Make sure_.”

 

“Absolutely, my Queen.” Kiza said, still laughing. She was already documenting a mini-Balem as he chewed on Jupiter’s shoulder.

 

***

 

The ride back to Stinger’s was… interesting.

 

“So if you’re his mother’s recurrence and now he’s an actual child and you’re super into Caine as your splice-soulmate and all that, does that make Caine Balem’s dad?”

 

“Kiza, you’re grounded.”

 

“You’re _dead_.”

 

***

 

Jupiter should have known better than to bank on Balem sleeping the whole night through. An hour onboard ship and two more heading into the country was apparently enough for the genes of an Entitled. (Why didn’t she have that? Jupiter still needed three alarms and a good kick to the ass each morning. That wasn’t fair). By the time they pulled bumpily into Stinger’s driveway Balem was stirring, first scrunching his nose, then yawning, then blearily opening his eyes.

 

Then he sat up so fast he whacked Jupiter in the nose.

 

“Ow—dammit!”

 

“Your Majesty—” Caine was already here, leaning across Kiza to check for any signs of blood. Jupiter waved him off though. She was a little more concerned with the wide-eyed, horrified look that was quickly spreading across Balem’s face.

 

“Hey now. Just hold on…”

 

Too late. With a strength surprising in such a tiny dude, Balem hoisted himself across three laps, managed to tear open the truck door, and threw himself out onto the dirt Die-Hard style. For one awful moment Jupiter thought he was making a break for the corn until he suddenly turned, falling into the same, half-bow stance that he’d done on the ship. The only difference was that Balem quickly pulled up his sleeve to bare his left arm. His skin was so white it glowed in the darkness.

 

Four pairs of eyes stared out at him.

 

“Help?” Jupiter hissed. Stinger immediately leaned into the back to murmur,

 

“It’s standard child-rearing procedure among the Entitled, Your Majesty. It’s forbidden to physically harm another Entitled, intentionally or not. Hence…” he gestured to Jupiter’s throbbing nose and Balem’s stiff shoulders. “For the same reason though, you can’t strike the kid for punishment like you would a splice or a servant. Generally they just stick a patch on their arm that directly triggers the pain receptors for a few minutes.”

 

Well that was sickening.

 

Even so, Jupiter had to ask.

 

“So why didn’t Chicanery make use of that…?”

 

“He doesn’t have that authority. Only his—”

 

“Mother can do that. Gottcha.”

 

Shaking her head, Jupiter slid out of the truck and trotted over to where Balem was waiting. Without ceremony she took his arm in hand and gave it three quick whacks; not nearly hard enough to leave marks but just hard enough that it seemed to startle him out of his trance-like state. Balem finally looked up and swallowed hard.

 

“Mother?” He whispered.

 

“Watch where you’re swinging that head of yours, kay? Now c’mon.” With the same determined causality, Jupiter swung him onto her hip and marched them towards the house. “You and I are having a long chat. Preferably with some late-night pancakes. I’m gonna need something syrup soaked to get me through the rest of this night. Oh hey, just dump those bags in the barn, yeah? You don’t want to wear black with glitter non-stop, do you, Balem? Didn’t think so. Now, should we have bacon with the pancakes? Or sausage? We—hey, are you guys coming or what?”

 

Three friends trailed after Jupiter, Balem’s befuddled expression reflected on all their faces.

 

***

 

Pancakes really did make everything better and Stinger’s were top notch. Not that Balem seemed to notice. He’d been staring at his plate for ten long minutes, eyes glassy, sometimes snapping them up to glare briefly at the others at the table.

 

Never Jupiter though.

 

“Right,” she said when the silence got oppressive. Balem startled like she’d screamed at him but Jupiter resolutely went on eating her syrup-with-pancakes. She waved her fork at him a bit. “You ever played Twenty Questions, Balem?”

 

His saucer eyes pretty much answered that. “… No, Mother.”

 

“Well we’re gonna play now.” Jupiter snatched the syrup jar and added another mound to her plate. Kiza’s eyebrows hit her bangs but hell, she couldn’t talk, she had so much honey drenched on her pancakes they were practically swimming. Hypocrite. And really, Jupiter was eating pancakes at 2:00am with her space-werewolf-angel boyfriend, her space-bee-friends, and her previous incarnation’s de-aged son. Was it so much to ask for someone to support her syrup habit?

 

“It’s easy,” Jupiter continued, taking the orange juice from Caine (He let it go. Willingly). “You’ve got twenty questions, yeah? For me. You can ask me any twenty questions you want, Balem. Anything at all.”

 

“That’s… not how you play Twenty Questions.” Kiza muttered.

 

“You’re supposed to be taking pictures.”

 

With a shrug Kiza dutifully captured Balem frowning over a stack of pancakes. Then the sneer that came a second later.

 

“You can’t record me, splice.” He huffed. “That’s illegal! Mother can punish you for that. Why are they eating with us, Mother?”

 

“Because they’re my friends,” Jupiter answered easily. She stuffed three inches of pancake into her mouth. “Next.”

 

“They’re—” Balem’s eyes got even wider. His chest hit the table and his little fists started causing a ruckus. “They’re not!”

 

“You contradicting me?”

 

And wow, was that satisfying. Balem immediately grew contrite and solemnly shook his head, something like horror filling up his eyes. When the remorseful look didn’t seem to be enough his mouth popped open to spout what Jupiter was coming to recognize as a title.

 

“No, Mother. Never, Mother.”

 

“Great. Next.”

 

Balem hesitated. “W-where are we?”

 

“Earth. A planet. My favorite planet actually. It’s so awesome we’re never gonna harvest it. Ever. Doesn’t that sound nice?”

 

Across from her Stinger choked on his bacon while Caine cast her a shrewd look tinted with admiration. Jupiter preened a bit.

 

“Earth,” Balem murmured. He lifted his hand in a remarkably familiar gesture, wrist poised and fingers delicately splayed. Balem curved his hand through the air as if he could feel the very texture of the atmosphere itself. Then his eyes snapped back to Jupiter’s.

 

“Why are we here, Mother?”

 

“Weeelll…” She grabbed some more bacon for herself, taking a moment to munch on the greasy deliciousness. “It’s actually pretty simple. I’m living here currently and you asked for me. So now you can live here too. With me. If you want.” Jupiter took another bite and let the crunch echo through the silence. “You wanna stay here with me, Balem?”

 

The effect was immediate. Just like when she’d opened her arms to him, Jupiter’s words now jerked on Balem like a string going taught. His whole body started trembling even as he tried to uphold the stoic, haughty exterior he’d obviously been taught. Jupiter waited patiently as his quivering mouth opened and closed a few times.

 

“Well?” She finally said.

 

“Y-y-yes, Mother. I would be h-honored to remain in your presence.”

 

With a snort Jupiter reached over with sticky hands and plucked the kid right off of his chair. Balem gave a startled little squeak before his arms instinctually went back around her neck, seeming to keep himself from pressing against her completely out of pure, unadulterated willpower. Jupiter used that to her advantage as she stared down at his reddening face.

 

“You gotta promise me two things though.”

 

“Anything!”

 

“One,” she said, holding up a finger. “You need to trust me. I’m not going to lie to you, Balem, even if it might seem that way when things don’t make sense. So when I say something, like, these guys are my friends,” Jupiter gestured to the collection of shell-shocked faces. “I need you to believe me.”

 

“I do believe you!” Balem cried. It was probably the most emotional four words he’d uttered yet. With an almost feral intensity he made eye-contact with Stinger, Caine, and Kiza, something he’d avoided until now. “I was genetically engineered to please you, Mother. I’m sorry if I’ve been remiss in my duties.”

 

“Oh. Wow. Okay…. We’ll work on that.” There’d be time later to think on how serious Balem sounded when he declared that. Right now though, Jupiter reached to scoop up a glob of syrup on her finger. She extended it towards Balem. “Open.”

 

His mouth popped open immediately and Balem eyed her finger like she was offering him ambrosia instead of discount pricing.

 

“The second thing,” Jupiter said, “is I need you to _smile_.” 

 

She swept the sticky sweet into his mouth at the same she said ‘smile’ and it had the desired, natural effect. Balem’s eyes lit up at the taste and his mouth quirked around her finger, making him look even more ridiculously adorable than normal. Jupiter could literally feel the happy, reverent hum he made in the back of his throat.

 

“Thank god,” Jupiter sighed. “That whole solemn routine was getting creepy.”

 

When she removed her hand Balem was outright grinning at her in shock, hands fisted in her shirt and legs tucked up around her stomach. His grin blossomed further when Jupiter took a napkin to his face. Even the napkin itself couldn’t wipe it away.

 

“You’ve still got seventeen questions left.” She said. “What else do you wanna know?”

 

His smile. It grew, and grew, and grew.

 

‘Snap’ went Kiza’s phone.


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapter three! I had to go back and re-edit because Kieli13 mentioned wanting to see a bubble bath XD

 

Twenty minutes, three more pancakes, and a reverent, sticky pat from Balem later, Jupiter had snuck into Stinger’s upstairs bathroom to, presumably, clean up. She _was_ doing that. Its just that she was also staring into the mirror and poking her cheek periodically; just to make sure this wasn’t all some strange, leftover Chinese induced dream.

 

“Your Majesty.”

 

Caine slid up behind her and placed both hands on her shoulders. He eyed a smear of syrup on Jupiter’s cheek.

 

“Everything still standing in the…” Jupiter went for her phone, remembered she’d left it downstairs, and shrugged. “In the super small amount of time I’ve been gone? Definitely not long enough for anything bad to happen. Right?”

 

“Lord Balem broke two of Stinger’s plates.” Caine said.

 

“… Oh.”

 

“I don’t think he meant to. He’s…” Caine hesitated. “Different as a pup.”

 

Jupiter shrugged again. “Not really surprising. Six years verses thousands and thousands and thousands? It makes a difference. He’s literally not the Balem we know… which is refreshing I guess.”

 

But Caine was shaking his head.

 

“You heard his advisor. He’s different with you.” Caine lifted a hand to brush at a strand escaping Jupiter’s ponytail. “That’s what’s not surprising. You bring out the best. It’s very impressive, Your Majesty. You’ve even made me start to like him…”

 

From her vantage point through the mirror, Jupiter watched as Caine dipped to lap at the smear on her cheek. It was with a sigh though that she stopped his movement halfway through. A really, _really_ regretful sigh. 

 

“Look, not that I’m not into the literally eating me thing, but considering that Balem knows nothing about me as a recurrence or the fact that I’m dating an awesome splice… maybe we should keep the PDA to a minimum. At least until he’s through hanging with us. Okay?”

 

Caine’s hands dropped, but so did his smile.

 

“I take it back, Your Majesty.”

 

“What?”

 

“That pup is a menace.”

 

***

 

“Mother?”

 

Jupiter was still not-hiding in the bathroom when her name (oh god) sounded behind her. She deliberately relaxed her shoulders, unlocked her knees, and a second later a small body came crashing into the back of her legs. Jupiter turned and swept Balem back into her arms.

 

“Mother.” He said.

 

“You’re a broken record, I swear,” Jupiter muttered. He only blinked back at her, nodding.

 

Balem was dressed now in a worn shirt of Stinger’s—“ _Bee the BEST you can bee!_ ”—that was so long it hung down over his toes. Jupiter had to gather up the extra fabric as they made their way out of the bathroom, scrunching it into a knot around his knees.

 

“Did you apologize to Stinger for breaking his plates?” she asked. Balem’s little brow furrowed.

 

“An Entitled doesn’t apologize to a splice.”

 

“Wrong.” Jupiter pinched his stomach, making Balem squeal. “We always apologize when we’ve made a mistake. Especially to friends. Go on.”

 

Stinger stood in the hallway. He was watching them both approach, two new toothbrushes held in his hand, and a look of deer-caught-in-the-headlights-and-is-definitly-about-to-be-smushed-by-a-passing-truck spreading across his face.

 

“Your Majesty?” He squeaked; cleared his throat.

 

“Go on,” Jupiter urged again. Stinger’s expression was priceless. It got even better when Balem murmured an obedient, “Sorry” against Jupiter’s neck.

 

“Don’t say it to me, silly.”

 

“Sorry, splice.”

 

“Sorry, _Stinger_.”

 

“Sowwry, STINGER.” Balem’s voice had grown muddled with sleepy irritation. He growled slightly and rubbed himself against Jupiter.

 

“That’s close enough. We’re getting there.”

 

A bit frazzled, Jupiter trotted up and took the toothbrushes out of Stinger’s limp hand. Balem had his head tucked back beneath her chin, but when she handed him one he gasped softly like she’d offered him a jewel. He clutched the toothbrush with fiercely possessive hands as Jupiter pet his head soothingly.

 

“This is weird, huh?” She chirped.

 

Stinger just breathed a few times. “Yes, Your Majesty.”

 

“Weirdness aside, you really don’t mind us staying the night again?”

 

“‘Again’ implies twice, Your Majesty. By my count, you’ve slept here at least thirty-six times.”

 

“… Uh huh. Are you always this snarky after pancakes?”

 

“No. After Lord Balem apologizes to me? Yes. Yes, Your Majesty. _Yes_.”

 

A sluggish head shifted to stare at Stinger. Balem didn’t smile exactly—not like what he’d given Jupiter downstairs—but he did preen a bit at the ‘Lord’ part. He eyed Jupiter with a very, “Mother? Mother did you hear that? I’m important, Mother. _Mother?_ ” look, which Jupiter steadfastly ignored.

 

“Worth the price of two plates?” she asked instead.

 

Stinger shrugged, shaking his head subtly from side-to-side.

 

“Don’t mind him.” Kiza called casually. “He’s just having an existential crisis.” She passed by, also dressed in an oversized shirt—“ _Bee mine, honey-pie!_ ”—brushing her own teeth with one hand and snapping pictures with the other. A spray of toothpaste fell at Jupiter’s feet when she spoke.

 

“Watch your filth!” Balem shrieked before snuggling back just as fast against Jupiter’s shoulder. His glare didn’t lessen though. If anything, it promised horrible things for Kiza in the near future.

 

“Sorry,” she said, rounding the corner. Luckily, Jupiter didn’t think Balem was quite old enough to pick up on sarcasm.

 

“See?” She said, swallowing a laugh of her own. “Everyone apologizes. Even Kiza. Isn’t that wonderful? … Stinger? _Stinger._ You look like you’re about to faint. Do you need this night to end?”

 

“… Yes, Your Majesty.”

 

“Okay. Right. Me too. Goodnight, Stinger! Balem?”

 

“Goodnight, Stinger” he parroted softly.

 

Stinger, for his part, blew out a breath and left on wobbling legs.

 

***

 

Jupiter was feeling a similar wobbliness just a few minutes later, like a drunk trying to keep her feet on a sailing ship. Like Chicanery trying to navigate one of those bouncy castles... and the image was so absurd that for a moment Jupiter’s spirits lifted, but then they plummeted again. Spectacularly. Because really, she hadn’t asked for this.

 

“I didn’t ask for this,” she muttered to the sink. “In fact, I distinctly recall saying no at the beginning of this mad night. Didn’t I said no? Didn’t I?” The sink refused to answer. And to think, just a half hour before Caine had been standing two steps behind Jupiter, prepared to give her a far more pleasurable night than the one she was facing now. Was this justice of some kind? Galactic karma of the, this-is-what-you-reap-for-becoming-Queen variety? If so, it sucked.

 

“Mother?”

 

Then again, it was Jupiter’s fault for smearing the kid with syrup.

 

She turned. Balem was peering at her curiously, his arms held comically out to the side. In his black, glittering robes he had looked like a scarecrow with bad fashion sense, silent and a just a little creepy. In a bee-shirt he just looked silly. Still. Jupiter knew she could probably call Caine back in, grab Kiza, or even find poor Stinger downstairs, but beneath the stoic expression she could see Balem’s mouth twitching downwards and his eyes filling with hope. No doubt he’d had clinical robo-nannies doing this the past month, and hadn’t Chicanery said that he took his RegeneX alone? When was the last time someone had helped him with this? Someone who actually gave a damn?

 

Jupiter stopped. Blinked.

 

Wait.

 

And why was _she_ the one who gave a damn?

 

“Mother?”

 

“... Oh alright, come here.”

 

Balem came, another small smile lighting up his features. His arms were still out so he wobbled slightly and even let out something resembling a giggle when Jupiter caught him around the waist. Rolling her eyes she stripped him of his shirt, noting the way he watched all her movements with a wary - but growing - happiness. To her relief there wasn’t any awkwardness between them. Balem was as indifferent to nakedness as any other kid and Jupiter was a mature adult-turned-ruler, thank you very much. She could do this. Besides, adult Balem spent most of his time half-naked anyway. This was practically the norm for them.

 

Which was something Jupiter wasn’t going to think on too much. Not now. Not ever.

 

“You need to leave the toothbrush,” she said and snorted when Balem actually glared at her briefly. He hadn’t let go of the thing since she’d taken it from Stinger. “It’s not going in the bath, Balem. You can have it back when you’re dry. C’mon now.”

 

Honestly, planets and jewels and no doubt all the toys an Entitled could want, and Balem got attached to a _toothbrush_. As if reading her mind, he stretched and placed it carefully on the sink, muttering, “You gave it to me, Mother” as if that explained everything. Hell. For him it probably did.

 

“Then remind me to give you something better than oral care,” Jupiter quipped. Grabbing Balem under the knees and shoulders, she missed the brief flash of ecstasy that few across his face.

 

“In you go,” she said and plopped Balem into the warm bath she’d prepared. He literally plopped, sending up a shower of water that drew a real giggle from him this time. Jupiter shook her head, resigned herself to wet clothes, and started pulling products down from the shelf - shampoo, body wash, soap, cleanser, conditioner... Everything in existence that was either honey-scented or honey-based. Splices or no, the Apinis needed an intervention.

 

“You want bubbles?” Jupiter asked and when Balem simply stared at her she shrugged, dumping a hefty amount in the still-running water. When the bubbles first formed they rose up at the opposite end of the bath before pushing towards Balem in a wave. He watched them with his mouth popped open in a small ‘o,’ giving Jupiter time to smile to herself, watching his rapt expression reflected in every prism. Either bubble baths weren’t a popular thing off planet, or no one had bothered to introduce Balem to them yet.

 

It was probably the latter. Jupiter shoved up her sleeves, feeling hot all of the sudden, and recognized that it wasn’t due entirely to the steam.

 

“What’s the purpose of bubbles in a bath, Mother?” Balem asked, soothing her. He was still staring at the mound (that was also still growing, uh oh) and periodically inching forward until his knees were almost touching the bubble mass. In a swift move Jupiter shoved a bunch at his chest, making Balem squeal in surprise.

 

“They’re fun.” She said. “Do you need another reason?”

 

Balem shook his head, now looking like a particularly solemn Santa. Nu uh. Of course he didn’t. Because that would be disagreeing with Mother. Resisting another eye roll, Jupiter scooped a second handful and stuck it in his face, extending a finger just as she had at dinner. She’d meant to get bubbles on his nose, but before she could Balem’s tongue shot out and tasted the suds... just as he had at dinner. Jupiter wheezed at the horrified, hacking expression that followed.

 

“You’re not supposed to eat them!”

 

“Yes, Mo-mo—ewwww, _Moooooother_.”

 

“Oh my god, come here.”

 

Balem got his toothbrush back. Hardly thinking about it, Jupiter found herself snatching it up, squirting out an obscene amount of toothpaste, and gently tilting his chin to get at his tongue. She scrubbed the sudsy taste away while Balem watched her cross-eyed, snuffling slightly when the bristles tickled his cheek. Well, he’d needed his teeth brushed anyway. Probably could have done it himself but he didn’t pull away from her, just relaxed into the water as Jupiter reached to get at his molars. When she was done he spit as instructed (initially looking appalled at the command) and then sneakily took the brush right out of her hands. Jupiter sighed as it plunged into the water, held safely between Balem’s knees. They’d just have to get another then.

 

He also made it pretty clear he wasn’t moving to wash himself.

 

“Either you’re an innocent angel,” Jupiter muttered, squirting shampoo into her hands. “Or you’re the most manipulative diva I’ve ever met. Actually... I know for a fact you’re the second. Turn around.”

 

“Diva, Mother?”

 

“I’ll explain when you’re older. Hair.”

 

Balem obediently tilt his head back and Jupiter ran the shampoo through his hair, scrunching a bit and encouraging it to curl. He didn’t exactly have thick locks just yet, and she’d sorta (read: absolutely) overestimated how much shampoo she needed, so Jupiter wasn’t surprised when the suds started dropping down onto his shoulders, engulfing Balem like the bubbles had before. Clucking her tongue, she cleaned her hand and pressed it to his forehead visor style. The last thing she wanted was for him to get soap in his eyes. If he’d reacted badly to the taste...

 

Then again, jokes of diva-ness aside, Balem had been nothing but sweet around her. A little hero worship-y her way and arrogant towards everyone else… but sweet. Jupiter had an awful feeling that even if she smeared the soap directly into his eyes Balem would just roll over and take it, probably smiling shyly at her all the while. She didn’t know which was worse: the immovable man she’d faced months before, or the equally passive boy she had now.

 

Which was a lie of course. Jupiter knew which was worse.

 

“Mother?”

 

She hadn’t realized her hands had slowed, then stopped completely, until Balem’s tiny voice piped up. With a strained smile Jupiter set to work again.

 

The rest was surprisingly easy. Whatever energy Balem had gained at the announcement of a bath quickly dispersed under Jupiter’s hands. She found herself relaxing again too. The residual steam, the hot water, honey-smelling concoctions... by the time she’d moved to cleaning his body, Jupiter was yawning too. Still, she took her time along his back and over his toes. Every time Jupiter paused and caressed him Balem melted into the touch. Once or twice she thought she heard a hum coming from his throat.

 

Later she’d check for cat genes along with the octopus ones.

 

Balem became so pliant that he even let go of the toothbrush. The poor abused thing swirled awhile in the water before it got caught over the drain, bobbing there. That was proof enough of how tired he was—he’d slept, what? Two hours in forty-eight?—but it was certainly obvious when a soft knock sounded on the bathroom door. Balem barely stirred. He only spared the offending object a brief glare... which admittedly grew stronger when Jupiter stood.

 

“One sec,” she promised and opened the door. There was a Caine standing there.

 

“Hey,” she said.

 

“Hey,” he echoed. Then paused. “Your Majesty,” Caine added. He held a couple of supremely fluffy towels in his arms, gold with faint black stripes (really, Stinger? _Really_?) He nodded his head over them formally and Jupiter didn’t miss the coy light behind his eyes when he used her title.

 

“Am I forgiven for before?” she asked, leaning in close.

 

“I don’t know.”

 

“You don’t _know_?”

 

“Is there still a pup Abrasax in your care that...?” Caine trailed off, scrunching his nose at the picture behind her. Balem had started splashing.

 

“…. That you’re bathing. _Your Majesty_.”

 

“Yes, Caine?” Jupiter blinked innocently.

 

He turned back to her. “This situation...”

 

“I something I try not to think on too hard,” Jupiter said. She lay a solemn hand on his arm. “Try not to get too jealous.”

 

Caine reared back as if he were actually affronted. Jupiter stifled a laugh.

 

“I am not,” he said.

 

“Really?”

 

Balem was splashing harder now, a grumbled “Moooootheeeer” escaping him. It briefly distracted Caine.

 

“Of course not.” He eventually said.

 

“Not even a little?” Jupiter used the pretext of peeking behind him to trace the tip of his ear.

 

“N-no, Your Majesty. Not in the least.”

 

“That’s funny,” Jupiter whispered, “because I recall a certain confession that involved _me_ bathing _you_.”

 

Ah, the downsides of being an albino. If Jupiter had to put a name to it, she’d call Caine’s coloring, oh, fire-engine-drenched-in-tomato-innards-and-set-aflame red. Something like that.

 

“According to Kiza, you _are_ his adoptive father now,” she said, trying to keep a straight face. “You could join us.”

 

“Goodnight, Your Majesty.”

 

“You’re sure—?”

 

“Goodnight!”

 

“Goodnight, Caine!” Balem crowed. Caine was already halfway across the bedroom, which was probably a good thing given that this time Balem’s new skill sounded less like a politeness and more like a victory.

 

“Caine?” Jupiter called him back, outright laughing now. “Aren’t you going to give us the towels?”

 

He whirled back, thrust them into her arms, and ran away again just as fast. The back of his neck looked sunburned.

 

Still chuckling, Jupiter returned to the tub. “Oh wipe that look off your face,” she muttered and Balem obediently cleared his features. He still looked smug though. Somehow. She settled for splashing him a little back. “C’mon, c’mon.”

 

Wrapping Balem in a towel, Jupiter shook her head and left the tub with its remaining suds and toothbrush. She’d take care of that tomorrow. For now, Balem was settling again remarkably quickly. He—yep. Yep there it was. Another yawn.

 

“Better?” she asked, gently scrubbing his hair.

 

Balem tilted his head, then just let it thunk against her shoulder. “I’m clean now, Mother.”  He said.

 

“Yeah you are. That’s good right?”

 

A soft ‘Mmmm’ sounded against her hair.

 

“Right then. Bed. Back into that ridiculous bee shirt of yours.”

 

***

 

“You sure are quiet, aren’t you?”

 

They were both seated across from one another on Stinger’s bed—the owner asleep on the couch downstairs, Kiza in her bedroom across the hall, Caine keeping watch between their doors (Jupiter had heard him settling down, grumbling and snuffling). They were for the most part alone, with Balem tilting his head droopily towards Jupiter like some grumpy, intense little bird. Staring at her.

 

“Yes, Mother.” He finally answered. He blinked; gnawed a bit at his lower lip. “Does that displease you?”

 

“Nope. Definitely not.” It was better than whispered monologues of rage after all.

 

Really, Jupiter could see the picture more clearly with every passing second of this crazy night: a tiny boy literally pieced together through genetic code to adore his mother, a mother who was rarely—if ever—around. So he lashes out, seeking attention (Jupiter knew Pop Psych 101, that’s right), and then suddenly his ‘mother’ appears, bearing as much affection as one young and floundering fake possibly could. She deliberately did _not_ tap into his pain receptors as punishment, was toting along a group of advisors she suddenly wanted him to befriend, forcibly feeding him Earth breakfast food, giving him a goddamn bubble bath, generally just making a mess of it all…

 

It wasn’t surprising if they were both a little off balance.

 

Still. If Balem’s continued reverent expressions were anything to go by, Jupiter wasn’t completely fucking it up.

 

She nodded to the couch made up across the room. “Caine put that together for you. I’m sure it cost him dearly. But I’m gonna take a wild guess here and say that you’d prefer to sleep next to me.”

 

Balem’s eyes went wide. His lower lip was still stuck between his teeth and it pulled up awkwardly when he suddenly smiled. Jupiter mentally cheered and added that look to the growing tally. It really was more reassuring when he smiled. Kids shouldn’t be that solemn. Even Balem.

 

“ _Really_?” he asked and fuck if that shy little voice didn’t kill Jupiter every time.

 

“Get over here.”

 

No more encouragement needed. Balem dove, knocking two pillows to the floor and managing to tangle himself hopelessly in the blankets. He landed with a soft ‘oof’ next to Jupiter and immediately set about attaching himself to her side. It took a fair bit more struggling and giggling before they were settled.

 

“You do realize this bed is huge, right?”

 

“Yes, Mother.”

 

“Cheeky kid. Wake me up if you need the bathroom.”

 

“Yes, Mother.”

 

“Or if you get hungry again.”

 

“Yes, Mother.”

 

“Or—”

 

“Go to sleep, Your Majesty.” Caine called from the hallway. Distantly Jupiter thought she heard Kiza snickering and wondered, mortified, how good bees’ hearing was.

 

“Yeah, yeah.”

 

Jupiter closed her eyes dutifully. But then, before she could think better of it, she ducked down to plant a kiss against Balem’s forehead. Of course, with her eyes closed she sort of missed and kissed what felt like his nose instead. What she didn’t miss the sharp, disbelieving intake of breath near her cheek.

 

Jupiter kept her eyes closed. She wasn’t sure she wanted to see whatever expression Balem was wearing.

 

Fifteen minutes later though, right around when she was finally drifting off, Jupiter thought she heard a soft, dream-like voice beside her.

 

“Night, Mama.”

 


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapter Four! I was very excited to read multiple reviews asking to see Kalique and Titus because that is absolutely something I'd always intended to include. This chapter starts moving towards the siblings... :D 
> 
> Enjoy!

 

Jupiter awoke to a hum.

 

It was one she’d grown used to in the recent months… though apparently others hadn’t. If Jupiter had harbored fantasies about waking groggily, forgetting for a few more moments that she was playing mother to Balem Abrasax of all people, that fantasy was blown away by a pair of shaking hands digging into her stomach. The rest of the shaking body was hidden beneath the covers, cuddled desperately against Jupiter’s lap.

 

“It’s okay,” she muttered, hand wiping across her face. Jupiter grimaced as she caught of whiff of her own breath. “Ease up there, kid. They’re just bees.”

 

It was probably to their advantage that the hives had been asleep when they’d pulled in last night. Now though, several hundred bees had snuck in through Stinger’s open window and they swarmed in happy circles above the bed. It was a far more enthusiastic wake-up then Jupiter was used to and she could only guess that it was due to two Entitles gracing their presence. Lucky bees.

 

The buzzing rose with excitement as Jupiter stretched and groaned. As it did, tiny fingers tried to separate Jupiter’s ribs.

 

“They’re just bees,” she repeated, yawning.

 

Silence. Quivering. Then—

 

“What are bees, Mother?”

 

Oh. Right.

 

“These guys.” Jupiter said. She lifted a hand and gently encouraged one to single itself out. Like when Balem had been shrieking in Durasi (had that really only been a few hours ago?) Jupiter could sometimes feel the bees ‘speaking’ in the back of her mind—not words exactly, but emotions couched in a language she didn’t actually know. Now Jupiter watched as the bees flew together into one massive, jealousy-fuelled clump before one finally tumbled out and landed triumphantly on her finger.

 

Delicately, Jupiter lifted the covers until she found her hidden Balem. He was still curled against her lap and stomach. Jupiter could feel his thighs trembling too, his eyes wide and wary.

 

“See?” she said, stifling another yawn. Jupiter eased her finger beneath the covers as the bee flit from nail to knuckle. Balem went cross-eyed trying to look at it.

 

“It’s hideous,” he declared.

 

“It’s a stripped fuzzball, you dolt.” Jupiter pushed the bee even closer, almost bopping Balem on the nose. “These little guys are what Stinger is spliced with.”

 

Well. That swayed him.

 

 Not. 

“They make a sweet called honey. It’s even better than syrup.”

 

Okay. A slight, curious pursing of the lips.

 

“They definitely won’t hurt you either. Bees are genetically engineered to recognize royalty.”

 

That caught his attention. Balem lifted his head, doming the blankets, pleased.

 

“And, you know, I just happen to _love_ bees.”

 

 

Balem reached out and took the bee from her, running a finger gently along its body. “I suppose I don’t hate them,” he said.

 

“High praise indeed. Now, as much as I love these early morning bonding moments, mind getting off my bladder before I do something we both regret?”

 

The next ten minutes were a whirlwind of bathroom trips, dodging bees, and reminding Balem that he shouldn’t swallow the toothpaste, no matter how minty great it might taste. It was after she’d sent him off on a quest to find clothes that weren’t black or glittering that Jupiter caught a hum in the air, one different from the background buzz she’d awoken to. Following the sound, she poked her head out the door and found her cellphone leaning against the wall. There was a crisp piece of paper folded underneath it.

 

Jupiter recognized Caine’ scrawl as she answered the vibrating cell.

 

“Hello?”

 

_Your Majesty,_

_The Aegis hailed earlier this morning. Lord Titus has been attempting to contact you. I’ve gone to see what he wants on your behalf. Take care around the pup._

_~~Love~~ _

_~~Regards~~ _

_~~Sincerely~~ _

_Caine._

 

Jupiter was laughing so hard at the signature that it took her a moment to catch the voice in her ear.

 

“Your Majesty?”

 

“Chicanery?”

 

His voice had always been thin and reedy, but now it was a mere whisper of its former self. Between the bees and the commotion coming from across the hall (“I’m not wearing that, Splice!” “ _Kiza_ , brat. Your mom said to use our _names_ —” “Kiza, Kiza, Kiza, Kiza—!”) she could barely hear him. Jupiter shut the door and said again, “Chicanery?”

 

A pained groan sounded down the line.

 

“Oh please, Your Majesty. Softly.”

 

Jupiter grinned. Pulling on her jeans she kindly lowered her voice down to a whisper.

 

“Bet you’re feeling last night, huh?”

 

Another pitiful sound. It sounded more like a squeak this time and Jupiter wondered if the rat genes in Chicanery were getting the better of him.

 

“Don’t you have any super space medicine you can take?” She asked. With one hand holding the phone, she tried getting the knot of her convers undone with her teeth. Jupiter said around it, “I’ve seen you guys heal all sorts of wounds, even without Regene-X. Don’t tell me we still don’t have a decent hangover cure.”

 

“Yes,” he said quietly, so quietly. “But medication for pain is reserved for Entitles, military, and…” A slight cough. “Natural humans. Unless enlisted, a splice is not to partake.”

 

Jupiter sat up so fast she nearly whacked a cloud of bees in all their tiny heads. “ _What?_ ”

 

“Your Majesty…”

 

Jupiter lowered her voice again, but the snap of her words didn’t ease. “Are you really serious right now? They don’t—aren’t—splices can’t—?” She took a deep breath. “Tell me you’re joking.”

 

“Believe me, Your Majesty, I wish I could.” Chicanery’s voice was particularly strained now, though whether from pain or defeat, Jupiter couldn’t say. “There are a great deal of… politics you have yet to learn.”

 

Obviously. Getting her other shoe on with angry movements, Jupiter growled into the phone, “You’re still on Balem’s ship?”

 

“Yes, Your Majesty.”

 

“Then go get some damn medicine.”

 

The pause on the other end was tangible.

 

“You heard me,” Jupiter said even as Chicanery started spluttering. “I’m an Entitled, aren’t I? Well, I’m giving you permission then. And you know what? Just in case you need more…” Standing, Jupiter jogged to the door and threw it open again. “Balem!”

 

He tumbled out of Kiza’s room instantly. He was only half dressed, with a baseball shirt nearly down to his shins and one shoe on that he had to drag to keep on his feet. His hair stuck up in about a hundred different directions. Kiza followed behind, a pile of clothes in her arms and a very done expression gracing her features.

 

“Mother?” Balem said. Smiled. It seemed tormenting Kiza was good for his soul.

 

Jupiter held out the phone.

 

“Chicanery wants permission to get some medication from the ship’s store. Is that okay?”

 

The three of them (well, four really) just stood in silence for a moment. Jupiter still had the phone thrust dramatically into the air with a force that was making her arm ache and Kiza’s eyebrows had disappeared up into her bangs. Jupiter could just hear Chicanery on the line, murmuring what was no doubt a plea to stop all this nonsense. She ignored him, focusing in on Balem. He appeared befuddled—

unsurprising. He toddled forward a step before he gave up, the too-large shoe dragging him down.

 

“Mother?” he asked.

 

One word, but Jupiter knew exactly what he was saying. Why was she asking him? She was Queen. More importantly, she was Mother. Whatever she wanted, Balem wanted too.

 

Which was exactly why Jupiter was keeping her mouth shut. Teaching Balem anything resembling ethics was almost useless if he only did those things for her. She wanted to him to decide things because they were right—or at least because he believed they were right—not because he thought it would please her. Thus, Jupiter merely titled her head when Balem’s lower lip began to tremble.

 

“C’mere,” she eventually said and he came. Slipping out of the shoe, Balem stopped just short of pressing his head against Jupiter’s knees. She knelt down to his level.

 

“You made lots of decisions while I was away, yeah?” she said and Balem nodded. “About what you wanted to eat and when you slept—even asking to see me.” He nodded again. The fact that his decisions had been awful ones and ‘asking’ was a far cry from the truth wasn’t important now. Jupiter nudged his chin. “Why is this different?”

 

Balem shrugged.

 

“You afraid that I’m gonna get mad if you choose wrong? ‘Cause I won’t.” Jupiter wouldn’t either. She’d make sure Chicanery got something regardless and really, this was just one small, starting step. Of course when faced with wealth and freedom Balem would choose what he thought he wanted, sweets and attention. He was six. But he’d gone straight from space dictator to momma’s boy in five seconds flat and it was about time they started finding a balance between the two.

 

“The facts are these,” Jupiter said, tilting his chin until Balem was actually looking at her. “Chicanery is in pain. The pain is... sorta his own fault” (a slight squawk from the phone) “but it’s also easily fixed. But he’d also need permission to fix things. Your permission. Oh, and he’s a splice.” Jupiter threw that in, wondering if after a meal and dress-time with Kiza that would still make a difference. To her relief, Balem didn’t immediately say no.

 

Instead he gnawed at his lip some more, casting hesitant glances her way.

 

“Can I ask?” He murmured.

 

“Ask what?”

 

“What you would do, Mother? In my place?”

 

Slowly, Jupiter nodded. Yeah. Asking advice was good. “I try to help people if I can,” she answered honestly, but not entirely straightforward. Then Jupiter looked up. Learning to listen to multiple pieces of advice was even better. “Kiza. What do you think?”

 

Balem’s head swung her way just as she snapped another picture. Peeking around her phone, Kiza smiled a coy little smile.

 

“I’d kinda like to see the rat suffer,” she said, then immediately waved her hand when Jupiter glared. “But your mom’s right. Help people when you can, blah blah blah. I’ll let you wear the bracelets too if you say yes.”

 

Bracelets? Whatever bracelets Kiza meant, they made Balem’s eyes light up in excitement. Jupiter sighed. Ethics muddled by bribery then. Great.

 

“Balem?” she finally pressed.

 

Standing on tip-toe, Balem stretched until his mouth was pressed to Jupiter’s phone. “You can receive medicine, splice” he said, like a grand king decreeing something immense. Then, before Jupiter could even get a syllable out, he amended, “You can receive medicine, Chicanery.”

 

Progress. _Sweet._

 

Balem dropped back on his heels, smiling up at Jupiter. Her own smile probably told him he’d done well, better than any awkward words could. Balem suddenly scrunched his nose and, not knowing or not caring that the phone was still on, asked, “And who is Chicanery, Mother?”

 

Jupiter stifled a laugh at the much louder squawk this time.

 

“He’s the advisor you’ve spent the last month with.” Jupiter laughed outright at his baffled expression. “You... never asked his name, did you?”

 

“I told him!” came the muffled voice. Jupiter heard what sounded like a distant crash. “Many, many times! _Lord Balem_.”

 

“I think that’s what betrayal sounds like,” Kiza muttered. She swung her ponytail and slouched back towards her room. “Well done. The great Balem is merciful and kind, etc. etc. You want the bracelets or not?”

 

With a last look at Jupiter, Balem scampered off behind her. (“I want the rings too, Kiza.” “Hell no.” “Kiiiiiizaaaa.” “They won’t even fit, brat. Quiet.”) Jupiter was left kneeling in the hallway with a stunned Chicanery back in her ear.

 

“You getting that cure yet?” she asked.

 

“Y-yes, Your Majesty.” Jupiter could already hear supplies moving around; the hiss of a spray, a harsh sound as Chicanery swallowed something that was no doubt foul—based on past experience with Earth meds, she’d bet on it. After about a minute he sighed deeply and Jupiter settled against the wall with a smug expression that, sadly, no one was around to see.

 

“Better?”

 

“Immensely. I...” Chicanery coughed and Jupiter didn’t need to see him to know he was acting all awkward. “Thank you. For that. It means a great deal, Your Majesty.”

 

“It’s a drunk’s cough syrup,” Jupiter said dryly. “Don’t mention it. Except...”

 

“Except?” came the hesitant voice.

 

“The next time Balem drives you to drink - which will no doubt be soon - you go anywhere near a vehicle...”

 

“And you’ll eviscerate me, Your Majesty?”

 

Jupiter nodded firmly. “I’ll probably get Caine to do it. But yes.”

 

“Duly noted.” She heard Chicanery sigh and what sounded like the faint ding of a PADD turning on. “As much as I’ll miss this passive, merciful Lord you have created—”

 

“Still not actually his mother.”

 

“—I have spoken with our geneticists and they finally have something resembling answers.” A grumble and a few choice words spilled over the line. “They have determined that the soaking is indeed temporary and they _believe_ that we’ll have the old Lord Balem back with us soon.”

 

Jupiter kept silent, something iffy and kinda awful beginning to roil around in her stomach. She could hear Kiza and Balem still bickering down the hall, and from below came the smell of Stinger starting up—another—breakfast. The mixture made it feel like a band was tightening around Jupiter’s throat. Which was ridiculous. And almost horrifying. Still.

 

“Is that necessary?” Jupiter whispered and then immediately cleared her throat. “I just mean, hypothetically, what if we just let him... grow up again? Not that I’m volunteering! And it’s not like I’m saying staying with me would make him better or anything, just, maybe, I don’t know...”

 

A rough sound filled Jupiter’s ears and it took her a long moment to realize that Chicanery was laughing. It didn’t sound particularly pleased though.

 

“You think I haven’t thought of that, Your Majesty?” He said. “I almost brought it up with the geneticists...” Chicanery sighed then. “But no. I fear I wasn’t speculating when I said ‘soon,’ you see. Regardless of why Lord Balem spent so much time in his bath, the fact remains that the compound is not meant to revert a user past their ideal, genetic state. This transformation is, in short, unstable and they believe that Lord Balem will return to his previous age within the next few days—completing a month’s time as a child. Though it is admittedly a difficult thing to measure...” Lower then, muttered so soft Jupiter almost didn’t hear, “I should have called on you earlier.”

 

“So that’s it then?” She asked. “His memories will be returned too?”

 

“Yes, Your Majesty.”

 

“And what about his memories from now?”

 

Jupiter remembered waking briefly late at night, startling slightly at the unfamiliar feeling of a smaller body pressed against hers, taking the place of Caine’s. Balem had woken with her, just barely, and she’d taken one, sleepy second to pull him closer. Jupiter didn’t know if she wanted Balem to remember that or not.

 

“That’s harder to say, Your Majesty.” Chicanery said. His voice was smooth and soft. “It’s... something we’ll have to wait on.”

 

“Right.”

 

Silence.

 

“Your Majesty?”

 

“What?”

 

“Would you indulge your humble servant in a favor? Tell that bee splice of yours that I was right. Balem’s return to his previous state will prove that the Liam myth is utter hogwash. Honestly, Your Majesty. You would do well to surround yourself with those who possess a higher caliber of intellect.”

 

Despite herself, Jupiter’s lips twitched. “You volunteering?”

 

“And associate myself with that pack of yours?” Chicanery sniffed. “Certainly not.”

 

“Fine. I’ll just inform Stinger of your gloating then.”

 

“Please do.”

 

“Then I’ll get the hell out of his way.”

 

Jupiter could almost hear the shrug on the other line. “It’s a price I’m willing to pay, Your Majesty.”

 

Another silence. This time the humor Chicanery had infused faded quickly and Jupiter found her gaze continually straying towards Kiza’s room. She jumped slightly at a diffident cough—one that sounded like it was far from the first Chicanery had given.

 

“Your Majesty?” He said. “Was there anything else?”

 

Get it together, Jupiter.

 

“Yeah,” she said, running a hand over her face. “Just, uh, Caine left a note. Early this morning. Really early based on when we got to bed... anyway, he said something about Titus trying to contact me? He’s not back yet, but you know anything about this?”

 

Jupiter’s eyes widened at the string of curses that poured from Chicanery’s lips, none of them in English. She also caught the sound of a PADD being viciously searched.

 

“Is this bad...?” she asked.

 

“Potentially, Your Majesty.” Chicanery growled. “I—”

 

Multiple things happened then that set Jupiter’s head spinning, more-so than it already was. The first was that Balem finally stepped out of Kiza’s room, fully dressed. He was still wearing Kiza’s baseball shirt along with a pair of tiny short-shorts no doubt held up by a belt. Jupiter only knew he wasn’t still naked under that long-ass shirt was because she saw the peak of jeans when Balem happily swung his arms up over his head. As he did a series of black bracelets clinked down his arm, barely keeping to his bony wrists when his arms swung back down. Balem was still barefoot. The entire outfit was ridiculous, but serviceable, and it might have even been cute if it weren’t for the fedora perched on top of his head.

 

“What is that?” Jupiter hissed.

 

“What is what, Your Majesty?”

 

Jupiter jumped, remembering Chicanery. “Uh…”

 

“Blackmail,” Kiza answered, drawing out the ‘a.’ Her phone went off, two—three—five more times.

 

“I told you to burn that!”

 

“Sure. But you didn’t say when.”

 

“Kiza—”

 

“Your Majesty…” Chicanery’s voice had taken on a suspicious undercurrent. “Are you discussing my hat?”

 

“Nope. Absolutely note. What? _Balem_.”

 

He’d already snatched the hat from his head, obviously catching on that Mother didn’t like it. With a silent kid-curse he threw the hat back at Kiza, hitting her square in the stomach. Kiza made an exaggerated ‘oof’ sound, doubling over like she’d been shot, and Jupiter was torn between “Don’t throw things” and “Good shot” when Stinger came charging up the stairs.

 

“Your Majesty,” he gasped.

 

He was dressed in a “Kiss the Apidae” apron and had a spatula raised threateningly above his head. It periodically dripped batter onto his shoulder. Jupiter closed her eyes.

 

“Yes, Stinger?”

 

“It’s the Aegis, Your Majesty. They just hailed. Someone is trying to break through the communication ward they’ve set up around Earth.”

 

Jupiter’s eyes snapped back open.

 

“Lord Titus?” Chicanery’s tiny voice asked.

 

“Not Titus.”

 

“ _Not_ Titus?”

 

“Mother?”

 

Balem was tugging on her jeans. Jupiter scooped him into her arms and he wrapped himself tight around her neck, shivering slightly from all the tension. Jupiter tried to hold him and balance the phone and look at the red, blinking stats that Kiza had pulled up and was now shoving under her nose. Jupiter quickly gave up.

 

“Okay. Chicanery? I’m gonna have to call you back.”

 

“No, no, Your Majesty, wait—”

 

But Jupiter had to prioritize. She clicked off the phone, stuck it in her back pocket, and immediately felt it buzzing as Chicanery called back. She ignored it.

 

“Who’s trying to get through then?” Jupiter asked, one hand keeping Balem’s head steady.

Buzz buzz went the phone.

 

“Can’t say, Your Majesty.” Stinger also had some sort of tech out, wiping batter away so he could actually see the readings. “They’re blocking the signal.”

 

Buzz buzz.

 

“I can’t identify them either,” Kiza admitted.

 

Buzz buzz.

 

“Well what then?”

 

Buzz buzz.

 

“Mother.” Balem murmured. “Chicanery wants you.” He tightened his knees against her waist, clearing disliking the truth of that. Jupiter growled lightly into his ear.

 

“Yeah, I noticed.”

 

Shushing the Apinis, Jupiter pulled her phone back out with jerky movements and answered just a little too hard.

 

“WHAT?” she shouted.

 

Silence. Then:

 

“… _Jupiter Jones_. Is that how you speak to me?”

 

“Mo—?” Jupiter bit off the word ‘mom’ at the last second, her eyes flying to Balem even as the blood flew from her face. He was peeking at her curiously, having caught the unexpected female voice, and wow, that was not a complication she needed right now, Balem asking why his mother was calling some Earthling ‘Mom.’

 

Jupiter had a sudden vision of Balem calling Aleksa ‘grandmother.’ She made a rather pained sound.

 

“Mother?”

 

Did Balem even have a biological grandmother? Was she still alive? Jupiter wasn’t sure she needed to know.

 

“ _Mother._ ”

 

“Sorry,” Jupiter drew out, silencing Balem. She turned her glare on Kiza when her mouth dropped open in gleeful understanding. “Its been a long morning…”

 

“Your Majesty,” Stinger whispered.

 

“A LONG MORNING?” Aleksa suddenly shrieked. Jupiter jerked the phone away from her ear, nearly dropping Balem in the process. He jumped too… then recovered. His eyes honed in on where Aleksa’s voice was emanating, he lifted his chin, and Jupiter heard the tinniest, “How dare you,” escape his mouth. She choked on a horrified laugh and quickly slapped a hand over his lips. In retaliation Balem began jangling his bracelets angrily.

 

“Your Majesty,” Stinger insisted.

 

“ _You_ have had a long morning?” Aleksa continued, oblivious to all that was happening on her daughter’s end. Her voice continued to rise with each word. “I have had a long NIGHT. You disappearing? Sneaking out? What sort of ‘long morning’ have you had with that drunk?!”

 

“No!” Jupiter yelped. “It’s not like that.” She tried to tuck herself away from Kiza and Balem’s red faces—red for entirely different reasons. “It’s really not like that,” Jupiter repeated. “Oh my _god_.”

 

“Then you come home and tell me what it is like,” Aleksa said. Her voice softened a bit. “Where are you? Are you still with that man?”

 

“No. I’m, uh, with Caine…”

 

Beside her, Balem went from enraged to confused in .2 seconds flat.

 

“Caine is not here, Mother.” He said helpfully. Balem pressed a warm hand to her forehead. “Are you ill?”

 

“Oh no, baby, I’m fine—”

 

“Jupiter?” Worry and frustration were creeping back into Aleksa’s voice. “Are you talking to Caine? When do we _meet_ him, huh? This boyfriend you claim you’re not cheating on.”

 

“I’m not!”

 

“Put him on.”

 

“I can’t—I—we need to go—”

 

“Mother…?”

 

“ _Jupiter_.”

 

“I’m fine, really, okay? Caine is fine too. Everyone is. Just super.” Jupiter said it all in a rush, eyes closed and rocking slightly. “Just, I’ll be home soon. I promise. Absolutely. Need to go now though.”

 

“Jupiter—!”

 

“ _Your Majesty_.”

 

“Bye!”

 

With a relived sigh Jupiter shut off her phone again, and as she did the warning in Stinger’s voice finally permeated. As did the sudden silence in the hall.

 

“Stinger?”

 

He was staring at something just behind her, his jaw tight and his spatula once more looking like a formidable weapon. (In his hands Jupiter had no doubt that it was). Kiza was staring too, though she had adopted a far more relaxed stance. Only her hooded eyes spoke of her anger. Balem was twisting to look. A tiny nose nudged her cheek.

 

“Mother,” he whispered hoarsely. Scared.

 

Jupiter turned and came toe to claw with what could only be a bat splice. The woman—at least, Jupiter thought she was a woman—was two heads taller than her and though thin, she looked as if she possessed three times the muscle mass. Her skin was dark with a brown fuzz overlapping most of it, covering entirely her long, perked ears. The most impressive feature though were her arms. Stretching from her ribs to her wrists were paper-thin wings that rustled as she settled into a military stance.

 

Jupiter could see extra bones there—like thin arm bones—stretching out across each wing. Many ended with thinner strips of cartilage sprouting out from the tip, almost like fingers. Sure enough, a collection of them moved and in response the edge of the wing clenched, veins popping and curling violently. Dressed entirely in black and wearing two unnecessary guns, this bat-woman looked ready to take on a whole fleet of Sargorns. Which, you know, was not something that needed doing right now. Not at all.

 

Jupiter swallowed through one hell of a dry throat and tugged Balem a little closer. The bat-woman honed in on her discomfort, her black nose twitching. She smiled.

 

“Greetings, Your Majesty,” she said and Jupiter noted a row of sharp, pointed teeth. “I am Guano. I have come to—”

 

“Guano?” The word shot out of Jupiter’s mouth before she could stop it. As did the slightly hysterical laugh a second later. “Guano? Seriously? They named you _poop_?”

 

Next to her ear, Balem let out a nervous little giggle.

 

The bat-woman—Guano, apparently—pulled up in affront. The added height made her look twice as intimidating, but the frustrated scowl started killing the mood. If Jupiter had to guess, she’d say this wasn’t the first time someone had made fun of her name. It almost made Jupiter regret her thoughtless comment... almost. Balem was still shaking slightly against her.

 

“Technically, yes.” Guano bit out. “You are aware, Your Majesty, that all splices are named after the characteristics of the animal they’re spliced with? It is a long and honored tradition.”

 

“Okay...” Jupiter could see that. Caine, canine. Stinger, stinging bees. Chicanery... yeeeah. Chicanery. She nodded her head. “Does that mean you got the short end of the name stick then?”

 

Guano closed her eyes. “It is true that numerous bat splices were bred for military purposes years ago. We also have quite the lifespan. By the time my master created me...” She shrugged, her wings rustling in frustration. “Well. She was scrounging.”

 

“That sucks,” Jupiter said.

 

“That sucks, Guano,” Balem intoned. He looked to Jupiter for praise.

 

“Oh, no. Don’t go repeating that. You’re not inheriting my potty mouth.”

 

“Ah—! Yes, Mother. Sorry, Mother.”

 

Guano was eyeing them both with a thoughtful, curious expression. “I did not realize you were so enamored with excrement, Your Majesty.”

 

“I am,” Kiza piped up. She was down low on one knee, trying to capture both Balem and Guano’s bulk in the same frame. Despite the vulnerable position, her smile remained ice cold. “As in, you’re going to _be_ excrement if you don’t tell us what the fuck you want with our Queen.”

 

“Don’t repeat that either,” Jupiter murmured.

 

“I second that,” Stinger growled. “Wait...” he pointed with his spatula to Kiza. “I mean I second what my daughter said. Not my Queen. Though the baby bee probably shouldn’t be saying those things anyway—I—wait. Just wait.” He took a breath. “What exactly are you doing in my house?”

 

“Oh.” Guano jerked like she’d just remembered something. “Of course. I’m meant to take Her Majesty and Lord Balem to Lady Kalique, using any means necessary.”

 

“To _Kalique_?” Kiza spluttered.

 

Stinger raised his spatula. “Now hold on, you—”

 

“Too late.”

 

Guano actually sounded apologetic when she said that. Indeed, a second later Jupiter felt some sort of transporter locking around her frame. It wasn’t anything like the ones she was used to, where she floated freely, able to take in the scenery as she rose higher and higher into the sky. No, this transporter locked her in place—literally. Jupiter thought briefly that she was glad she’d had a firm hold on Balem. He was equally stuck against her hip now.

 

“Mooootheeer!” He wailed. Everything was stuck but his mouth.

 

Jupiter couldn’t turn to see Kiza and Stinger’s expressions, but she could imagine them pretty well. She’d just opened her mouth to say something—a reassurance? A ‘release me now or you’ll be sorry’? Begging? Hell, she didn’t actually know—when suddenly she felt a tug at her navel. In the next second Guano pressed her comm and disappeared, Jupiter heard Kiza shout, and then she and Balem were rising. The last thing Jupiter felt was Balem’s panicked breathes against her skin.

 

Then they were gone.

 


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So I feel like this story is getting weirder and weirder as it goes on... and idk if that's a good thing or not lol. Basically - if you're still reading and reviewing and kudoing, bless you and your wacky taste for insanity. My muse and I thank you from the bottom of our hearts :D
> 
> Onwards!

 

They were rocketing upwards. Jupiter and Balem passed harmlessly through Stinger’s rooftop and had cleared Earth’s atmosphere within a matter of seconds. Jupiter got a brief look at the stars before her vision went dark. All she had in that ensuing moment was the feel of Balem pressed against her hip and the rush of transportation particles.

 

Then there was a ship.

 

The landing was admittedly smooth enough. Jupiter expected nothing less from the likes of Kalique. Even so, their abrupt trip had left Balem shaking, burrowing more firmly into her side once their limbs were once again free. Jupiter let him take that comfort, frantically smushing him in turn, and when she looked up her glare was something fierce.

 

“What. The. Fuck.” Jupiter growled to the empty room.

 

“Don’t repeat that,” Balem muttered against her chest and Jupiter was relieved to hear that despite the shaking, Balem sounded pissed. Good.

 

Maybe she’d sick him on his sibling and take pictures of _that_.

 

The image was just glorious enough to bring a brief smirk to Jupiter’s face. Then it fell.

 

“That’s right,” she acknowledged softly. “We don’t say things like that. But right now you’ve got my permission to think it as much as you want...”

 

Balem nodded. He finally raised his head and set angry, red-rimmed eyes on the room they’d landed in. He wiped his long sleeve viciously over his nose and Kiza’s bracelets gave an irritated jangle.

 

“Who took us, Mother?” He demanded. “Will you punish them? You should punish them." 

 

“A woman named Kalique,” Jupiter said, avoiding the second question entirely. Crossing the marble floor, they passed a number of golden statues that looked remarkably like Jupiter and wow, they were just going to ignore that too. Jupiter firmly turned Balem’s face away from them. “She’s another Entitled…”

 

And what else was there to add? She couldn’t very well say, ‘Oh Kalique is your 14,004 year-old _younger_ sister. Surprise, kid! You’re older than you look.’ As it was, Jupiter hurried away from the creepy statues and made for the gilded door.

 

Given the impatience of their abrupt departure (“kidnapping,” a part of Jupiter screamed), no one seemed particularly keen to greet them. Guano had materialized elsewhere and the empty room echoed with Jupiter’s footsteps. She found that the adjoining room was equally deserted. The hallway attached to that was just as cold, the air positively stale with disuse. As far as appearances went, Jupiter and Balem were in a fancy-pants space museum, all alone.

 

But hell, Jupiter was a pro at appearances now. Centuries old siblings who looked thirty-three, she was a space Queen who looked like nothing more than an immigrant housekeeper (which she also was, thank you very much), and she’d walked through a fair number of Greco-Roman-ish halls that possessed technology the ancients would have burned as ill omens. Certainly she’d seen enough to be suspicious.

 

... There. Once Jupiter was looking for it, it was embarrassingly obvious. The statues they passed ( _how many, Kalique??_ ) had glassy eyes that sometimes seemed to follow their movements; aesthetic orbs drifted aimlessly above their heads, but not quite aimlessly enough for Jupiter to miss how they periodically circled back, keeping close to the ‘guests.’

 

They were being watched.

 

Jupiter came to a jarring halt. “Kalique,” she called, loud enough that Balem jumped. She stroked a hand over his hair. “You’re being stupid. If you want to see Balem, just come down and see him. Or come up. Wherever the hell you are on this ridiculous ship.”

 

She paused. Jupiter could feel Balem’s curious eyes, but beyond that their surroundings remained still and silent. (Except for the orbs. One passed and twisted in a way that made Jupiter think it was taking a picture. She turned Balem towards her with a growl and held up a very specific finger. After all, only she and Kiza were allowed to creepily record the kid. C’mon).

 

“Fucking hell—Kalique, Stinger knows I’m gone! Guano wasn’t exactly subtle about your 'invitation.' How long do you think it’ll be before he finds a way to come blasting in here? Have you even _met_ Kiza?”

  

“The Aegis too!” She added when the silence continued. “They know your evil plot and, and, you know… just your general badness…” Jupiter let out a frustrated sigh against Balem’s head.

 

Okay. It wasn’t a complete lie. Caine was with Tsing and Stinger would absolutely contact Caine before doing anything, so within the next half hour they’d probably come roaring in, fueled by a potent mix of worry and too much testosterone.

 

Jupiter winced. Shit. That was actually literally what was going to happen. She beseechingly raised her eyes to the ceiling.

 

“Kalique. Seriously. Do you _want_  your ship to crash and burn?”

 

Deeeead silence.

 

“Mother.” Balem tugged gently at one of Jupiter’s earrings. He seemed fascinated by the tiny, silver ball he’d caught between thumb and forefinger, as well as by the larger balls that drifted lazily overhead. One suddenly flew so low that Balem’s hair rose up in a shower of static. He followed its path like a gaping goldfish.

 

Jupiter felt a smile coming back.

 

“Oi,” she poked him in the ribs. “You had something to say?”

 

“Oh. Yes, Mother.” Balem blinked and shook himself, waddling in her arms. “This Kalique must have a terrible status among the Entitles if she’s unwilling to present herself,” he said solemnly. (Jupiter snickered. She hoped _that_ had been recorded). Balem’s face suddenly scrunched in anger and he continued, “And how dare she not come when you call! Why doesn’t she come, Mother? Is she a ‘she’? I thought Kalique was a boy’s name? And what are these ball things? They’re very pretty. Like the stars. Can I have ones like these? Can I?”

 

“Can—?” Jupiter was still walking, still watching those orbs, just barely keeping up with Balem’s spiel because okay, when the kid decided to talk, he _talked_. She looked down and found him wide-eyed with some sort of hope, his fingers delicately playing with her earring.

 

“ _What?_ ” Jupiter asked. It might have come out a little harder than she’d intended.

 

Definitely, because Jupiter wanted to kick herself when Balem’s expression fell and he curled into a meek little ball. If she’d set him on his feet, Jupiter was sure he would have tried to bow again.

 

“I didn’t—” He stopped, started again when Jupiter smiled in encouragement. “I didn’t mean to presume, or ask too much of you, Mother. I just…” Embolden, Balem’s hand rose once more to her ear. “I just want to be like you.”

 

“Oh.” Jupiter said, finally getting it. She raised her own hand to her ear. “… Okay. I mean, maybe-okay. Sorta-okay? You really wanna be like _me_? No wait. Don’t answer that. It’s cool. Shock inducing—but cool. We just gotta make sure it’s still you being you and all that. Too. You’re not… me,” she finished lamely. Jupiter's cheeks grew hot at the knowledge that Kalique was probably watching this Hallmark moment, laughing her beautiful ass off. She cleared her throat. “So. Am I understanding this... you want earrings?”

 

Slowly, Balem nodded. Some of that excitement was coming back. “Can I wear yours, Mother? Just for a moment?” and with just a little too much force he tugged at the accessory. His expression moved from expectation to confusion when the little orb stayed firmly in place. Jupiter hid her wince.

 

“It’s not a clip-on or anything, silly,” she said. They had come to an elaborately carved bench and Jupiter quickly plopped Balem down. She then deftly pulled the earring from her ear, showing him both pieces as well as the minuscule hole. “See?”

 

Balem drew in a soft breath. “You maimed yourself, Mother?” he asked. His voice was a mixture of residual wonder and something just this side of horror. Jupiter gave an indelicate snort.

 

“Your vocabulary is ridiculous. And no, I didn’t ‘maim’ myself. Lots of humans... well okay, lots of Earthlings, they pierce their ears as kids. Didn’t you notice Kiza’s? ... Oh. She generally has little honey combs in. But see--don’t fall off the bench! Okay see? Here and here. I had a second hole but it closed up - never got good at matching earrings, you know? But you can pierce up top here as well, in your cartilage, or get a bar or a gague... you probably don’t need a gauge though. And it doesn’t hurt. Not really anyway. It’s sore for a while afterwards, but the actual piercing? Pff. You’ve had worse from me trying to lug you around...”

 

Jupiter trailed off, very aware that she was rambling. Not that Balem seemed to care. He sat on the very edge of the seat, quite literally hanging on her every word, nodding seriously whenever Jupiter paused to draw breath.

 

When she’d finished Balem nodded again, then shyly said, “But I enjoy being... um... ‘lugged’ around by you, Mother. And I would still like earrings. Like yours. If I can?” He tentatively lifted his arms.

 

Forgetting for a moment that they were still trapped on Kalique’s ship - with so far no Kalique - Jupiter smiled and hauled Balem back into her arms. The silver orbs, which had been edging closer during their repose, suddenly veered back as Jupiter took off again.

 

“Absolutely,” she said. Jupiter tweaked Balem’s own ear, causing him to giggle. “We’ll get you your ears pierced if you want. I did promise you a better present than a toothbrush, didn't I?”

 

His smile lit up the corridor in a way Kalique’s artificial lighting never could.

 

“Now, Mother?” he asked eagerly.

 

“Not now, sorry. Not until we get out of here...” Resolutely, Jupiter picked up the pace. The orbs followed. She resisted the urge to yell ‘Kalique’ loudly and obnoxiously as she went. Her voice _would_ echo delightfully off the marble… but she did have standards.

 

Standards that were rapidly eroding the longer this game went on.  

 

At least Balem was utterly relaxed now, even still trapped in this stone-cold place. No Stinger yet. No Caine either. Jupiter repressed a sigh and randomly look a left. Looking to keep the conversation going, she asked,

 

“Anything else you want, kid?”

 

It was a pretty absent-minded question. Just something to distract them both as they passed another window loaded with stars. So Jupiter was surprised when Balem started fidgeting against her. When she looked, he was resolutely looking away.

 

“Balem?”

 

“Can...” Balem suddenly stuck one of Kiza’s bracelets in his mouth, sucked on it once, and spit it out, leaving a thin string of saliva. Jupiter automatically wiped it away as he softly said, “Can we find something to eat?”

 

Oh. Right. 

 

 

Guano had shown up before Stinger had even finished making breakfast. Balem had barely eaten any of the pancakes from the night before (just globs of syrup that Jupiter had taken too much pleasure in messily feeding him), and who even knew how much he’d eaten before she’d shown up - not much if Chicanery’s stories were anything to go on. Right in time with her thoughts, Jupiter felt a rumble speeding across Balem’s stomach. He looked away again and squirmed slightly.

 

“Hungry then?”

 

“Yes, Mother...”

 

Balem shouldn’t sound so damn ashamed of it and Jupiter began kneading the back of his neck to tell him as much. She knew that if it were anyone other than her, he’d be screaming at the top of his lungs to be fed. Entitled decorum be damned.

 

And that was when the tiny, hypothetical light bulb flashed into existence above Jupiter’s head.

 

“You’re hungry,” she said again. This time it wasn’t a question. A wicked grin began to spread over Jupiter’s face.

 

“Yes, Mother...?” Balem answered, doubtfully.

 

Jupiter pouted her lips exaggeratedly, making him blink in surprise. “Well I wish I had some food for you, kiddo. I really do. But I don’t. Because, you know, we got kidnapped and all that. Horrible, right? So why don’t you tell our host that, hmm? She can give you food.”

 

Balem tilted his head curiously, more at Jupiter’s odd tone than the words. She ducked her head and pressed their noses together in an Eskimo kiss.

 

“Tell Kalique you’re hungry, Balem.” Jupiter whispered. “Do it loudly. Like you used to with Chicanery, remember? You’re an Entitled. _Demand_ it.”

 

Balem was far smarter than most six-year-olds Jupiter had encountered, and having a connection like theirs sure didn’t hurt. He understood then, her meaning washing over him in a giddy wave. Slowly, Balem drew in a deep breath, pausing only to see if Mother would change her mind, and when Jupiter simply nodded in assent he let it rip.

 

A wailing shriek of epic proportions issued forth. Now, with Balem a mere foot away from her ears, Jupiter understood that this was nothing like what she’d heard on his ship. It wasn’t just the close proximity though, but the emotion behind his screams as well. Where before Balem’s cries had been a mix of negative emotions, primarily need - a need for Mother, a need to be heard - now his voice expressed happiness, sort of. Jupiter could hear the discomfort (Balem was actually hungry) and the residual fear of their kidnapping, but mostly there was humor, mischievousness, a contentment at being in her arms.

 

Still, the kid had better appreciate her holding him. As it was, this little gag of theirs might still blow out her eardrums. But when Jupiter managed to open her eyes again after her initial cringe, she saw that Balem was smiling through the shriek. That, more than anything else, was probably worth holding on for.

 

His yells bounced off the marble around them, rising high into all the crevices of the ceiling. The silver balls had been swooping closer and closer during their journey but they backed the hell off once Balem got to it. Jupiter saw a few of them vibrating and was reminded of Aunt Nino’s long-held claims that a true soprano could shatter glass. Of course, Mom had chimed in about frequencies and fractures and luck... but Jupiter was pretty sure that if anyone could pull off an explosion, it was Balem.

 

She wondered what the sound feedback was like on those recordings. Excellent, probably.

 

All at once the sound ceased. Balem was grinning, panting in her arms, and was just drawing in a breath to have a second go when Kalique finally decided to show up.

 

Except it wasn’t Kalique.

 

Jupiter shushed Balem just as Titus materialized to their left, one hand pressed to his forehead and the other occupied with a rather large wineglass. He turned hard brown eyes on them both.

 

“For the love of all the planets,” he groaned. “Would you just shut him up already?”

 

“Titus.” Jupiter briefly closed her eyes, though she didn’t miss the smug look that had crept onto Balem’s face. He didn’t seem terribly concerned by this unexpected arrival. He merely leaned further into Jupiter’s embrace, giving little self-satisfied kicks against her thighs. Balem looked to Titus, Mother, back to Titus, and slowly opened his mouth again.

 

“Don’t you dare,” Titus growled.

 

Jupiter put a finger to Balem’s lips, just in case. (He made a kissing noise against it and giggled at the sound). “Titus. What--? What are you doing here? Where’s Kalique?”

 

“She’s upstairs with me, where do you think?” Titus’ image shimmered as he turned to speak with someone behind him. “Yes... yes! Developing a migraine as well, I might add. Really, Jupiter, was all that necessary?”

 

Balem’s face scrunched in confusion.

 

“Was it necessary to stalk us for twenty minutes?” she shot right back. Titus waved his hand.

 

“Twenty? Please. Ten, if that. You’re so dramatic, Jupiter. Just like... ah. Well.” Titus’ gaze honed in on Balem, meeting him stare for stare. “Just like another distant relative I could name? Anyway... why don’t we discuss this in a more civilized setting? Have you eaten? It seems as if _someone_ is rather starved.”

 

“Food would be appreciated,” Jupiter said dryly. “Kidnappings always make me hungry.”

 

“Such humor,” Titus murmured. “Just another few corridors, my dear Jupiter. A left, up the staircase, through the privacy field... you know what? I’ll just let the surveillance guide you. I have always been rather fond of silver balls.” He grinned a shark’s grin, imbuing enough innuendo into the words to make a stripper blush. Jupiter grit her teeth.

 

They were falling right back into old habits: Jupiter, unbalanced by whatever was going on around her. Titus, obviously playing some sort of game. Kalique, off to the side, patient, waiting for her own turn to strike. The only difference this time around - and it was admittedly a biggie - was that Balem wasn’t waiting too, intent on destruction. He was happily declaring himself on Team Mother (if the sullen raspberries he was blowing at Titus were any indication) and if his sibling’s expression was anything to go by, Balem was an even more formidable weapon than before.

 

Why hadn’t Titus mentioned the elephant in the room? Namely that the eldest Abrasax had been turned into a preschooler? Surely he wasn’t concerned with Balem learning the truth. What would he possibly gain from keeping that secret? 

 

But Titus wasn’t spouting an explanation either. He simply stared at Balem, his face settling into something harder than a dirty invitation warranted.

 

Working purely on a hunch (instinct, really) Jupiter stepped just a little closer and hefted Balem up against her cheek. She then dropped a quick kiss to his hairline that had him gasping in happiness - and Titus’ eyes narrowing in anger.

 

Or something else entirely.

 

... So that was it.

 

Jupiter straightened. Oh yeah. She could work with this. “A meal would be lovely, Titus,” she said, all simpering Entitled-ness. “Be up in just a sec.”

 

His eyes narrowed even further until they resembled only black slits, but he did nod. With a quick glance at the silver orbs - no doubt to remind Jupiter of her continued surveillance - Titus bowed and pressed the comm by his ear. Right before he disappeared in a shower of pixels though, Jupiter caught his expression falling into contemplation.

 

_Bring it on_ , she thought.

 

“Who is this Titus, Mother?” Balem asked. He started bouncing in her arms, clearly still pleased at having annoyed The One Mother Doesn’t Like and giddy at the prospect of food. Jupiter was only glad that kidnapping and asking for gifts hadn’t left him in a permanent downer. That, at least, was something to be grateful for.

 

“He’s Kalique’s brother,” she answered. “And an... unexpected addition. Don’t worry though. We can handle ‘em, even both of ‘em together. Just keep doing what you’ve been doing.”

 

With a proud little shimmy, Balem held on for the ride.

 

They followed the silver orbs at a clipped pace, down the corridor just as Titus had said, then a left, another left, and soon after that Jupiter was hopelessly lost. Oddly enough though, the deeper into the ship they went though, the more relaxed she became. The was fine. Of course it was. After all, Jupiter had dealt with Titus and Kalique before - though admittedly never at the same time - but really, how bad could they be? (and was that the sound of ominous thunder in the distance? Pfff, no. They were in space. Get it together, Jupiter).

 

Besides, any minute now Caine would come charging down the steps or dive bomb her from above, making one of his ridiculously dramatic entrances. Then she and Balem both would have all the backup they needed. Then they’d—

 

Jupiter stopped.

 

The orbs were still moving forward, rushing ahead now, but Jupiter had come to a standstill. Before them was an arch with a shimmering, technologic veil blocking the view beyond. Not the sound though. Jupiter could hear the conversation pretty damn well. It sounded like...

 

“Mother?”

 

Jupiter nodded in acknowledgement. “C’mere,” she said and quickly swung Balem on to her back. He went with a squeal, briefly grasping at her hair to regain his balance, and once Jupiter had a firm hold around her knees she set off like a shot. Down the corridor, outpacing those stupid orbs, through the force-field that left a cold, tingling shiver on her skin, and then—

 

They emerged into the strangest tea party that Jupiter had ever seen.

 

At least, that’s what she assumed it was, what with the elaborate table laden with sweets and the six familiar faces seated formally before saucers and cups. The guests included Guano,- who raised a hand in greeting, her wing accidentally sending a sugar bowl flying - Malidictes to Guano’s left, - who gave Jupiter a curious and formal bow - Kalique heading the table in all her splendor, Titus lounging in the seat beside her (though looking a bit like he was trying too hard), Captain Tsing none-too-subtly scooting her chair away from the youngest Abrasax, and...

 

Caine.

 

Caine who’d been glaring fiercely at a bouquet of roses until Jupiter stepped in.

 

“Your Majesty,” he breathed and stood up too fast. His knee hit the table and toppled a small basket of breads. Guano looked impressed.

 

“Heeey,” Jupiter said. This was... not what she’d been expecting.

 

At that moment though Balem decided to peek out from where he’d hidden behind her hair. Spitting a strand from his mouth, he turned his serious gaze on the party.

 

“Caine!” He suddenly yipped, pointing straight at the splice in question. Caine, for his part, stood completely still where he’d risen, eyes widening at the recognition. Balem’s arm sung to the side - nearly clobbering Jupiter in the neck - and announced “Guano!” with the same, triumphant tone. Titus was next, Balem’s voice infused with as much skepticism as one six-year-old could muster, and then he paused, thinking.

 

Over Jupiter’s shoulder, Balem’s fist aimed directly at Tsing.

 

“... Kalique,” he deduced and the whole company choked.

 

“Oh no, no, no, darling. _I’m_ Kalique.” The Entitled rose from her seat, brushing towards them in a partially sheer chiffon gown. No longer dealing with pixels, Jupiter could see that Titus was dressed in similarly evocative garb - black jacket over a black mesh shirt that left very little to the imagination. She wasn’t sure if the outfits were intended to seduce her or their newly jailbait sibling, but Jupiter was about twelve-thousand percent sure she didn’t want to find out. Attempted pedophilia was _not_ on the list of horrifying shit she was prepared to deal with right now.

 

Thoughts like that probably explained the death grip she had around Balem’s ankles as Kalique approached. Kalique’s moment of hesitation told Jupiter something about her expression too.

 

“And you must be Balem,” she simpered, coming to stand just a little too close. When she reached out a soft hand and Jupiter and Balem both pulled back, Kalique tisked. “Really, Jupiter. I just want to say hello.”

 

“I don’t say ‘hi’ to stupid people,” Balem snapped before she could answer and he thrust his chin angrily against Jupiter’s collarbone.

 

“Stu—?” Kalique turned briefly to the audience behind her, seemingly looking for proof that she’d heard right. Malidictes’ puckered mouth and Titus’ toast said it all. When Kalique turned back, her smiled was fixed. “And how am I ‘stupid,’ darling?”

 

Jupiter didn’t need to see Balem to know he was rolling his eyes—she could practically feel it.

 

“Mother says you’re an Entitled but I don’t believe it because all Entitles know Mother and you obviously don’t,” he said all in one breath. “My Mother is Queen Seraphi— _Seraphi_ —founder of Abrasax Industries and ruler of… of… she rules a lot of stuff, okay? And her name is Seraphi, _not_ Jupiter. In her _real_ name I demand that you apologize. _Now_.” Balem stuck his nose straight into the air, bopping Jupiter in the ear.

 

Kalique had kept a remarkably straight face through all that. Not so much Titus. Or Caine, who looked like he’d swallowed a bucketful of lemons. Malidictes appeared positively horrified and Guano mildly impressed. Only Tsing appeared unconcerned, reading something on a device attached to her wrist.

 

“I see,” Kalique said faintly. “My mistake of course, you just look _so_ much like someone else I know.” Her smile turned cold.

 

“What house do you belong to?” Balem asked suspiciously.

 

Kalique waved her hand. “None of any true prestige, I assure you. Now come, let us put this misunderstanding behind us. Allow me to offer my sincerest apologies over lunch. You are hungry, aren’t you, Balem?”

 

Hesitantly, he nodded, his stomach giving another tremendous rumble. Then he shot his eyes at Jupiter.

 

“Yeah,” she agreed, clearing her throat. “We’re hungry. Also wouldn’t mind getting a question or two answered…” Jupiter looked from Caine, who had his head ducked like a whipped dog, and Tsing, who was now openly frowning at her device.

 

“Understandably,” Kalique said. She gestured to the full banquet. “Shall we, _Seraphi_?”

 


	6. Chapter 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello, friends! I come bearing Chapter Six. Also some advice. Ahem...
> 
> *clears throat* 
> 
> NEVER STICK TEN CHARACTERS INTO A ROOM TOGETHER. KEEPING TRACK OF THEM ALL IS BS. 'DID YOU SIT DOWN YET? ARE YOU EATING? WHAT EXACTLY ARE YOU EATING? AND WHY HAVEN'T YOU SPOKEN IN SIX PAGES? SHOULDN'T YOU BE TALKING???' 
> 
> JUST DON'T DO IT OKAY. YOU WILL CRY. IT'S NOT WORTH IT (oh god it's just not). 
> 
> Okay. *deep breath* That is all. Happy reading! *waves slightly maniacally*

It was like the beginning of a very bad joke: three splices, two Abrasaxs, a Captain, and a de-aged nemesis all sat down to a tea-party...

 

The only problem was, Jupiter couldn’t figure out the punch line.

 

She settled for playing the game, as well as she was able. Ignoring Kalique’s outstretched arm (which pointed to a space between her and Titus), Jupiter made a beeline for the seat next to Caine. As she did she swung Balem back to her front— sweeping him up near Kalique’s arm—and there was a moment, just a minuscule of a second, where Kalique’s fingers extended, stretching out towards them both until the fine veins in her hand popped and darkened.

 

Then it was gone. Jupiter hurried away.

 

“Here, take him.” She said, shoving Balem into Caine’s arms. Neither looked particularly pleased with this development. Balem did hang onto his shirt though, and Caine instinctually got one arm under his butt while his other hand took hold of Balem’s neck. Jupiter saw a flash of a wolf carrying a pup in its jaws before she shook her head, dispelling the image. She sat down with just a bit too much force.

 

“I thought you were gonna come rescue me,” she growled out of the corner of her mouth. Caine drooped. Balem whacked a tiny, displeased hand against Caine’s chest.

 

“Yeah, Caine. Why didn’t you come rescue us?”

 

“I—”

 

“Gloating doesn’t look good on you, kid.” Jupiter said, snatching Balem back. She stuck him, pouting, on the seat beside her. “Well?” She asked, raising an eyebrow at Caine.

 

“I’m afraid that’s my fault,” Titus piped up.

 

Of course. The whole table was watching the proceedings, some more overtly interested than others. Titus, for his part, was still lounging in his chair, cup in hand, causing Kalique to send him smiling but otherwise impatient looks between her sips of tea. (At least, Jupiter thought it was tea. Was it tea? Space tea? Maybe Balem shouldn’t drink it). When she didn’t immediately respond to his declaration, Titus lifted his cup in a patronizing manner.

 

“Your splice,” he said, causing Jupiter’s hackles to rise. “He honored me with a visit. Not one at my invitation though, I’m afraid to say. Very rude of you...” Titus smiled, taking a long drought that ended in a satisfied sigh. “Not that I’m complaining of course. There I was, trying to get ahold of dear Seraphi”—his eyes twinkled—“but all Earth’s communications were blocked. Funny that. Would that be your doing, Captain Tsing?”

 

Tsing didn’t even bother looking up. She simply scrolled through another line of code on her wrist.

 

“Well,” Titus said. “I presume it’s the good work of the Aegis. So imagine my happy surprise when the ship—toting your splice, no less—arrives and demands an audience. Why,” Titus laughed. “That’s all I wanted in the first place! The splice and I spoke, we decided that the past animosity between us should really be put to rest...” Caine twitched. “I told him I wished to speak with you and he was... hostile to my suggestion. I’m not sure why. Lucky for me though, dear sister wanted to speak to you as much as I. And she has some rather unique tricks for getting your attention.” Titus lifted his glass in another toast. “It truly has been my lucky day. And... sister? I simply must know. How _did_ you break through that communication barrier?”

 

“You talk too much, brother.” Kalique said, taking the glass away. She returned to her meal.

 

“I’d be interested to know the same thing,” Tsing said coldly, finally looking up. Just as fast though she looked back down, a new readout appearing.

 

“That true?” Jupiter asked.

 

She lay a hand on Caine’s thigh, beneath the table where Balem couldn’t see, and with a light squeeze reassured him that she could read between the lines: she knew he would have rendezvoused with Tsing before confronting Titus. Probably got duped into meeting him one on one though. Caine never could resist a challenge, especially when it came from the guy who’d convinced Stinger to betray them and, oh yeah, threw Caine out of an airlock. Most of the guys in Jupiter’s life had been a little hotheaded, but even she could admit you didn’t just let that go. So... maybe a minor hostage situation (and man, was _that_ getting to be a regular thing), maybe Titus really did convince Caine that they all had something to discuss. Whatever it was, Kalique had obviously swooped in to ‘help,’ plucked Balem and Jupiter from their hive, and now a group of people who really should never be in the same room together for more than two minutes had sat down for lunch.

 

Perfect.

 

Caine gave a short, angry nod. Jupiter patted his leg.

 

“When all this is over and done with,” she whispered. “I will _absolutely_ make it up to you.”

 

Yep. The blush that spread like wildfire up Caine’s neck made some of this worth it.

 

Not all though.

 

Gently edging her boyfriend to the side, Jupiter peered around to glare at Titus.

 

“And what is it you wanted to talk about?” she asked sweetly. Jupiter was met only with a sickly smile in turn.

 

“You know,” Titus said. “I’m not sure I recall,” and his eyes strayed towards Balem.

 

“Certainly it’s something that can wait until after we’ve eaten,” Kalique piped up. “Besides, it would be rude to begin any serious conversation without all my guests present.” She deliberately edged a plate of sandwiches across the table.

 

Jupiter sighed. She couldn’t exactly argue the point. Whatever Titus and Kalique wanted, it couldn’t be anything that a tike like Balem should hear. Hell, he was probably the topic of conversation. Your faux children didn’t just avoid you for months on end and then coincidentally kidnap you just when you’d taken custody of their miniaturized sibling. And they’d done a decent job of keeping up the ‘Seraphi’ charade (ew), _and_ Jupiter knew Balem needed to eat. She—wait.

 

Jupiter’s head snapped up.

 

“Guests?” she demanded, stressing the ‘s.’ “You’ve got more people coming to this mad tea party?”

 

“But of course,” Kalique said. Biting into a scone-like pastry, her face was a mask of perfect innocence. “You are waiting for the elder and younger Apinis, are you not? And I do believe Captain Tsing is monitoring their movements even now.” Kalique sent a pitying look her way. “You’re not exactly subtle about it, dear.”

 

Tsing cleared her screen with a sharp gesture. “Wasn’t trying to be. Oh, and call me ‘dear’ again and I’ll proudly be the second person under Her Majesty’s command to rip out the throat of an Entitled.” Tsing smiled.

 

“Really,” Kalique muttered.

 

“I like her,” Caine whispered.

 

“Your Majesty,” Tsing turned her way, ignoring them both. “I have stayed by your legionnaire’s side, as promised, and I have acquiesced to this…” Her eyes strayed to the table. “… meeting. Because you’ve expressed wanting to keep your political ties as civil as possible, a decision I support fully. But one word, Your Majesty. One word and I will personally ensure that you and your charge leave this place safely.”

 

“We _are_ sitting right here,” Titus drawled. His cheeks heated though when Tsing kept her eyes on Jupiter. “Really, Captain. You’re our guest. But… _if_ we wished for you to stay, do you really think that you could refuse us? With just a dog and a pair of bees outside?”

 

“I could try,” Tsing promised. Her voice was as hard as iron.

 

Jupiter believed her too. It sure as hell wasn’t the first time she’d pulled off a miracle through skill and a healthy dose of stubbornness alone. Jupiter had no doubt that if she let her head fall in assent within seconds there would be an all-out battle taking place in Kalique’s dining hall.

 

Beside her Caine was tense and poised, waiting for her order. Jupiter couldn’t see a gun at his hip—not surprising, probably tossed out another airlock—but his teeth and the power of his wings would be enough to urge him on. Tsing was idly stroking a butter knife, Stinger and Kiza were somewhere close, with streaks of anger and possibly firepower. Jupiter knew from experience that these things alone shouldn’t be underestimated.

 

But Kalique had Guano, sitting lax against her seat but casting Jupiter guilty looks from beneath furry brows. She’d have to follow her own orders of course, whether she wanted to or not. Even if she hadn’t been a threat, how many soldiers could Malidictes summon with just a single word through his comm? How many had Titus brought with him?

 

Was it even worth it?

 

Especially when there was no guarantee they’d come out of this unscathed…

 

Jupiter’s eyes strayed instinctually to Balem. He’d scooted their chairs together, his butt pressed into the space between them, staring up at Jupiter even as the rest of him shook anxiously, wrist pressed to his mouth and periodically chewing on his bracelets.

 

Without breaking their gaze, Jupiter reached out and grabbed a random pastry, placing it carefully on Balem’s plate. He smiled, trusting her.

 

And that was it, wasn’t it? Goddamn responsibility.

 

Jupiter smiled back.

 

Violently shoving away those images—the ones of Balem hurt, Balem scared, Balem sobbing just out of reach—Jupiter subtly shook her head at Tsing. The captain nodded. Everyone else relaxed.

 

“We’ll stay,” Jupiter said. She was impressed with how steady her own voice sounded. “For a while anyway. Didn’t you hear Balem? He’s hungry,” and Jupiter began piling everything else she could reach onto both their plates, just so she could keep her head ducked a moment longer.

 

“We heard him,” Titus muttered and then winced horribly. Jupiter wondered if Kalique had kicked him.

 

“I’m so glad to hear it,” Kalique said, though she didn’t sound glad at all. If she had kicked Titus she’d done it blindly, because she was staring hard enough at Jupiter to induce spontaneous combustion, or something else equally horrible. Right before Kalique covered her mouth with a napkin Jupiter saw it, a fierce glare and an ugly downturn to her lips. The only thing she’d done to deserve such a look was tuck another napkin into Balem’s shirt.

 

… It wasn’t just Titus then.

 

Still, Jupiter kept to her task, trying to keep the material in place with Balem squirming. If their long-ago breakfast of pancakes had been any indicator, this kid was an absolute mess when it came to food. Caine finally leaned over, pulled the napkin around his neck, and speared the ends together with a chopstick.

 

“Huh… I guess that works too.” Jupiter said.

 

Caine shrugged.

 

“If you would kindly refrain from destroying any more of these,” Kalique said sweetly. “They are Perovian silk.”

 

_Stain the tablecloth,_ Jupiter mentally commanded Balem. _Break a few more dishes._

 

“… and I suppose we’d best let your friends in, yes? I’d prefer it if they didn’t ruin the new coating on my ship. Go and greet our guests,” Kalique said, flapping a hand at Guano. No sooner had she stood though then Kalique was waving her back down. “No, no. Not you, never mind. You’ll scare them horribly with that look of yours; give them the wrong idea about this meeting. It’s just lunch after all. You agree?”

 

“Of course, My Lady.” Guano said. Though her arms remained rigid, the wings connected to them drooped a bit.

 

“Excellent. Malidictes?”

 

“I will return shortly, My Lady.” Malidictes said. He stood and shuffled from the table.

 

As he went, Jupiter spotted Balem looking between Kalique and Guano—the later still staring hard at her own food, a wealth of delicacies she had yet to touch.

 

“That wasn’t very nice,” Balem said, almost to himself. Only Jupiter heard him.

 

“No it wasn’t,” she whispered. “It’s good you realize that though. Don’t be mean like Kalique, okay?”

 

Balem nodded sharply.

 

“Now, craziness and veiled insults aside, why aren’t you eating?”

 

Balem swallowed, looking between the plate and Jupiter. His stomach gave another massive rumble.

 

“I was waiting for you, Mother.” He whispered.

 

“Well then you’ll be waiting till Kingdom-Come,” Jupiter said. The last thing she felt like doing was eating, not with Kalique and Titus two seats down. It wasn’t like she thought the food was poisoned or anything—god knew Kalique was packing it away—just the thought of it though, the vulnerability and the guest/host ickniess of it all. But Balem didn’t have that baggage, not anymore at least, so Jupiter pushed the plate closer.

 

He eagerly reached for something plump and oozing cream.

 

“Fruit first,” Jupiter admonished. “Then dessert.” When Balem pouted she popped a grape into his mouth and he bit down hard, causing the juice to fly.

 

“Jupi—” Kalique stopped. Started again, “Seraphi…”

 

Just then though, the whole company was distracted by Kiza.

 

They must have come in at a hatch near the dining hall. Either that, or Malidictes could move a fair bit faster than his stoic, feathery bulk suggested. Kiza was certainly moving fast, tearing through the door with three of those silver orbs whizzing after her. It was only then that Jupiter noticed the silver bowl of punch right smack in the middle of the table.

 

Except it wasn’t pink punch. Wasn’t even punch at all. Despite Kiza being clear across the room, the silver liquid in the bowl showed her image from an aerial view point—the sort view you’d get if you were a creepy stalker ball flying overhead.

 

Jupiter sighed.

 

“The surveillance is kinda cool,” she admitted.

 

“Why thank you, Seraphi.”

 

“ _Seraphi?_ ” Kiza practically shrieked, coming to a searing halt. She had a blaster gun in both hands—was she ambidextrous? Shit—and four more were divided between her hips. There was a dagger strapped to the outside of her thigh and what looked like a grenade peaking out of the top of her boot. Her hair was frizzing out of its ponytail, a gleam of sweat was marring her brow, and Stinger came in walking behind her, cool as a cucumber.

 

“Yo, Caine,” he said. They shared a rather charged look.

 

Caine nodded. “Stinger.”

 

“Hi, Kiza!” Balem called. It barely came out as intelligible, what with his mouth bursting with grapes. He tried smiling around chipmunk cheeks. “Mother says I can get balls like that,” and he pointed simultaneously at the surveillance and Jupiter’s head, causing mass confusion.

 

“That’s nice, baby bee.” Kiza wheezed. “Taking care of my stuff? Your mom? Good, good. Now who am I killing on your behalf? You?” Her guns swung towards Guano.

 

“Not me,” Guano muttered sullenly. “I was just following orders.”

 

“Fair enough. The top dogs then?” Two barrels pointed towards Titus and Kalique.

 

“I am no dog,” Titus sneered, looking directly at Caine.

 

“Your loss,” Caine shot right back.

 

“Hell yeah!” It slipped out before Jupiter could catch it and she cowered a bit under Kalique’s glare. “Right. Sorry. Um… Kiza? No need to shoot anyone. I was needed for some Very Important Business but we’re having a bit of lunch first. Or brunch. Something. It’s food, Kiza. Please stop pointing guns at people.”

 

“Sounds good to me,” Stinger said. He helped Malidictes drag over two more chairs.

 

“My Queen,” Kiza spluttered. “Seriously? _Seriously?_ I did not hotwire a ship for this,” and she waved the guns in a way that made everyone wince.

 

Stinger shook his head. “I told you, you wouldn’t need the whole damn armory.” He turned to Caine. “Figured you had things basically under control. Lots of practice, huh? What with Her Majesty disappearing right and left. The baby bee is getting to be just as bad.”

 

Caine grimaced. “Agreed. The pup needs a leash. I’ve been thinking of getting Her Majesty a tracker as well.”

 

“Good thinking.”

 

“It can’t hurt.”

 

“… guys. We are sitting right here you know.”

 

“We know,” they answered, practically in unison.

 

“Captain,” Kiza groaned, ignoring the rest of them. Her guns had dropped towards the floor but she was still standing, anxiously shifting her weight from side to side. “Don’t _you_ want to shoot someone?”

 

“Badly,” Tsing admitted. “But we’ve got our orders. Sit down, child.”

 

“Your weapons, Lady Kiza?” Malidictes asked politely, holding out his arms.

 

“Daaaaaaad.”

 

“Just sit down, Kiza. You’re already grounded.”

 

Balem started laughing at his friend’s expression. “She’s being disobedient,” he mock whispered to Jupiter.

 

“Yeah she is. Tell Kiza to sit down, Balem.” Jupiter wiped a smear of something blue off his cheek.

 

“Si—”

 

“Not with your mouth full.”

 

Balem gave a massive swallow. “Sit, Kiza!” he chirped.

 

Kiza sat, grumbling all the while, stealing a tart off Balem’s plate.

 

“Now who’s the dog?” Guano wondered.

 

At that point Balem began wailing about his stolen tart, Kiza caught sight of her chewed bracelets and started a ruckus of her own, Caine stood to get between them (just up and tucked Balem under one arm, his angry fits and feet swinging), Guano watched them with restored amusement, Tsing determinedly went on eating her bacon, across from her Malidictes had started to make tiny, distressed hooting-noises (thankfully, Kiza’s weaponry was now out of his reach), and Stinger’s voice rose above them all, asking if there was any honey.

 

Jupiter, for her part, calmly watched as Titus turned to Kalique.

 

“By the gods, sister. What _have_ you wrought?”

 

***

 

The meal, when they actually got around to it, was surprisingly calm.

 

It pretty much came down to the fact that despite the animosity among them all, each of them shared a similar appetite, keeping their mouths full and their opinions to themselves. Caine was certainly hungry. When he wasn’t shooting suspicious glances at Titus or concerned looks at Jupiter and Balem, he was demolishing some sort of pork at a rather alarming rate. Jupiter made a mental note to stock his makeshift apartment with more food. The fool was probably too deferential to ask for it.

 

Besides, the way Caine kept sucking juices off his fingers was giving her ideas...

 

Not now though. Obviously. Not with a kid halfway in her lap again and an audience of nine. Besides, if anyone was outdoing Caine’s appetite, it was Balem. Jupiter was hard pressed just to keep up, whether it was reaching for more of This or That when Balem eyed the treat with tentative hopefulness, or whether it was making sure he didn’t suffocate himself with all the goop he got smeared around his mouth and nose. Kiza—after finally calming down—had put aside her phone to grab another napkin. Between bites of his meal, Caine snapped a few pictures in her stead, smiling slightly at the two of them poised over a squirming Balem.

 

“Honestly,” Kiza muttered, wetting the napkin in some water. “You’re a real brat. This shirt was _white_ when I gave it to you. An _hour_ ago.”

 

“Take that back!”

 

“It’s true, isn’t it!”

 

“I’m not a brat!”

 

“Oh yeah you are,” Jupiter said and when Balem swung betrayed eyes on her she smiled to take the sting away. “That’s okay though. I like brats. God knows I’m surrounded by them” and before her friends could process that, Jupiter dropped a quick kiss to Balem’s hair. It came back sticky. Yuck.

 

That’s how it was for a good twenty, maybe thirty minutes. Jupiter and Kiza taking turns cleaning Balem. Balem dividing his attention between them and the food. Caine snapping pictures. Stinger half draping himself around Caine so that Balem could try spoonfuls of honey. The five of them instinctually formed a little pocket, cut off from the rest of the party, and yes, Jupiter was admittedly preoccupied enough that it took her a while to notice.

 

Namely, that the looks from Titus and Kalique were growing.

 

Growing in the sense that the two royals were getting a hell of a lot less subtle about their feelings. Whenever Jupiter smoothed Balem’s fringe she caught Kalique staring, often with a bit of food forgotten halfway to her lips, and when she’d remember its existence her fork rose in a trembling hand. Titus was no better. When Jupiter exaggeratedly proclaimed how proud she was that Balem had managed the massive goblet this time without spilling anything, Titus very nearly upended his. From the corner of her eye she watched as he struck the spilled droplets with another napkin, cursing all the while. When Tsing moved to help he viciously hissed at her and yet, somehow, Jupiter knew that if she’d been the one to offer help Titus would have moved aside willingly, with a mocking sneer and something more vulnerable hiding underneath.

 

They were both jealous as hell.

 

And Jupiter wasn’t the only one who noticed. Stinger nodded soon after Titus had his little fit, his own expression hardening despite his smile for Balem. They had assumed, the both of them, that this little rendezvous had everything to do with their charge—a cruel enjoyment of Balem’s predicament, an attempt to have him sign over property, maybe even an assassination attempt... Jupiter wouldn’t have put it past the Titus and Kalique she’d engaged with months before. These two though? They were acting like… like…

 

Like siblings.

 

_Fucking hell._

 

When Jupiter retrieved a fork for Balem and Kalique positively _glared_ , she had to resist rolling her eyes, dramatically. Jupiter was getting the feeling that this upcoming ‘discussion’ would be less of a conversation and more of a spitting hissy-fit—all couched in royal manners, of course. She wasn’t looking forward to it and with that in mind Jupiter was happy to pile more food onto Balem’s plate, encouraging him to eat as long as he liked. Honestly, it wasn’t hard. He was a freaking endless vacuum.

 

“You too, Mother,” Balem said, not for the first time. He held out a strawberry, larger than any Jupiter had ever seen, dotted with a bit of pink cream. “Take this. It’s satisfactory.”

 

“Oh ho, just satisfactory?” she asked, taking the fruit. “You seem to be eating your fill of what’s ‘satisfactory.’”  

 

Balem was remarkable at keeping a straight face when he wanted. “It’s edible,” he confirmed.

 

“You sure it’s good enough for your mom?” Jupiter teased and only a second later noticed everyone growing still around her.

What…?

 

… _Oh._

 

Was that the first time she’d referred to herself as his mom out loud? Even jokingly?  Probably. Jupiter couldn’t bring herself to care though, not really, not when that was, technically, the role she’d agreed to—at least for now, at least for a while—and certainly not while Balem was positively glowing under the attention. Hell, she wasn’t _that_ cruel.

 

(She could see Kiza sitting smugly from the corner of her eye. Jupiter resisted the urge to discretely flip her off).

 

Then Balem stilled too though, for an entirely different reason. He turned critical eyes on the strawberry, no doubt cataloguing its every flaw, and with a tension easing out of her, Jupiter realized what he was going to do a millisecond before he did. Just as Balem was reaching to take the offending strawberry back, Jupiter popped the whole thing into her mouth.

 

“Too late,” she said, only to cringe a second later. Gagging, Jupiter pulled the soaked stem back out. “Bleh.”

 

“Bad strawberry.” Balem growled.

 

“Stupid mother,” she countered.

 

“Here, ” Caine pushed a plate of what looked like chocolate croissants her way. “You like these... don’t you...?”

 

Two tentative, unsure boys flanking her. One of them demanding attention—at it wasn’t the pup. It made Jupiter both smile and shake her head.

 

“Yeah,” she said and took one to make them both happy.

 

It was while she was munching through the rich chocolate—which really was incredible, dammit, she’d have like to complain about the food—Jupiter noticed that Guano still hadn’t touched her own meal. Neither had Malidictes for that matter. Even though both their plates were filled to the brim with food, creating a balanced image with the rest of the table. Neither had said or moved much at all.

 

“Here,” Jupiter said and she pushed the croissants towards Malidictes. “These really are good. Try one.”

 

He jerked, a sharp shock running through him. Then his expression moved from surprise to... gratitude?

 

“Thank you, Your Majesty,” he said. Malidictes gave a tiny, sitting bow. “But I am not hungry.”

 

“Right…” Jupiter narrowed her eyes. “Guano?” she asked, pushing the plate to the left.

 

“I’m good, I’m good. It’s not like retrieving you was taxing or anything.” She fluttered her wings a bit nervously and Jupiter wondered how she’d found her so intimidating before. Besides, you know, her huge stature and massive claws and sharp teeth. Beyond those things.

 

“You’re sure?” She pressed. “Don’t bats like fruit?”

 

Guano’s eyes darted to the pile of strawberries Balem was still working through. With a quick look to her, he pushed some forward with red-stained hands.

 

“I’m... fine, Your Majesty.”

 

Jupiter was a second away from calling bullshit when Titus let out a gruff laugh.

 

“Oh give it up already,” he said, waving a languid hand. He had his... what? Third glass if wine in hand? If it even was wine and not something stronger. Whatever it was, it was turning his cheeks pink and loosening his tongue. Or maybe that was just Titus.

 

“Give what up?” she challenged.

 

“Equality, Your Majesty.” Stinger said quietly. “Splices aren’t supposed to eat with the higher ups. Certainly not with Entitles.”

 

“He’s not eating,” Balem accused, pointing obnoxiously at Titus. Titus just raised an eyebrow.

 

“Us civilized folk,” he drew the words out. “Don’t _drink_ with splices either.”

 

Jupiter eased a hand down Balem’s spine. “Sorta like how splices can’t have meds without an Entitled’s permission,” she said. Her voice went steely soft and beside her Kiza gave a disgusted sound of assent.

 

(Balem whispered “Chicanery” helpfully).

 

“Picked up on that, did you, Your Majesty? ‘Course, it depends on what kind of Entitled you’re working for...” and Stinger deliberately stuffed a large piece of ham into his mouth, sending a wink Jupiter’s way before leaning back and almost daring Titus to say otherwise. Caine did the same—only with a more reverent look saved for her—and with a quiet snort Tsing happily handed her plate to the boys.

 

“It’s true,” Titus said with a shrug. “Most of us wouldn’t be caught dead dining with a splice. Not that I can speak for all...”

 

Jupiter made sure to catch Guano and Malidictes’ eyes, trying to show them her intent to talk _with_ them, rather than _at_ them. They were keeping their own mouths shut though.

 

“Then why invite them to the table?” she finally asked.

 

Kalique blotted her mouth. “Why, I always have Malidictes by my side. And he doesn’t mind, do you?” She didn’t wait for him to respond, just spoke right over his blank expression. “And the Defender is here for... insurance.”

 

“Defender?” Jupiter parroted.

 

“Hm,” Kalique flapped an unconcerned down the table.

 

“Guano,” came a tiny, trembling voice. Jupiter found Balem crawling back into her lap, wiping his mouth with his sleeve, and angrily gesturing with his other hand. Once settled he puffed his cheeks out at Kalique.

 

“The Defender’s name is Guano,” he practically shouted down the table, making them jump. “G-U-A—... uh...” (“N, O” Jupiter whispered), “Yeah! N-O. Like ‘no!’ Don’t do that. Don’t just say ‘splice’ or... or say nothing! Mother said to use ‘Caine’ and ‘Kiza’ and ‘Stinger’ and ‘Guano’ too, right, Mother?” (“ _Right_ ”). “Right! And Malidictes! And... and whoever else there is. Right?”

 

“Double right,” Jupiter cheered and basked in the rather stunned looks on Guano and Malidictes’ faces. Malidictes especially. No doubt he’d never expected to hear words like that coming out of Balem Abrasax’s mouth—child-sized mouth or no.

 

Titus seemed to be of a similar mind. “By the gods, you’re making him into a _radical_ ,” but Kalique shushed him.

 

“You put a great deal of stock in names, don’t you, little one?” she said. Balem wrinkled his nose at the endearment but Kalique plowed on. “It’s just that you haven’t learned yet that some names hold more significance than others.”

 

“Nah uh,” Jupiter waved a fork at the pair. “You’re not teaching him that. Balem, you call people whatever they want to be called.”

 

“Even when they’re meanies?” he huffed.

 

“Especially when they’re meanies.”

 

Beside her Kiza choked on her food.

 

“Even when they have boy’s names, Mother?” Balem was actually curious that time. He lifted his head until his curls bumped the end of Jupiter’s chin. She paused. Hadn’t he asked something like that back in the hall? What did she know about space names anyway?

 

“Even then,” Kalique spoke up, surprising her. “You see, Balem, my mother...” (Her eyes caressed Jupiter, just briefly). “She wanted sons to rule her empire. I have an elder brother,”—she swallowed— “and a younger brother, Titus.” He tilted his glass their way. “I was, biologically speaking, the middle brother, but it became clear early on that I’m actually a woman. I was able to transition quite easily given our technology and with a bit of Regene-X—it is rather common, you understand. And I kept the name my mother gave me because I like it.”

 

Oh.

 

Balem was still looking up at Jupiter. “So it’s a girl’s name too?”

 

“Sure is, kiddo.” She caught Caine’s eye, wondering if he’d known this little tidbit, but he simply shrugged. Jupiter turned back to Balem. “Besides, doesn’t matter. It’s a name. She says ‘Kalique’? She’s ‘Kalique.’”

 

“Kalique,” Balem said deliberately, but still acting like he was chewing something foul. He pointed fiercely across the table again, making the occupants twitch. “Guano!”

 

“Guano,” Kalique repeated softly. Titus rolled his eyes.

 

“I’m done here,” he said, tossing his cup aside. “Sister? Either speak with _Seraphi_ or send her on her way. I tire of these games.”

 

“Of course…” Kalique’s face, when she looked to Jupiter, was open and expectant.

 

Right.

 

“Hey, Balem.” Jupiter ducked down to whisper against his skin. “How ‘bought you go off and play while we discuss boring grownup things? No,” she cut him off before he could get upset. “You’re not in trouble, you didn’t do anything wrong—nada, nil, zip. I just need to talk privately with Kalique and Titus for a few minutes, kay? You can play with Caine.” For just a moment, Jupiter reveled in the horrified look that spread across her boyfriend’s face.

 

“ _Mother_ …” he whined, clinging to her shirt.

 

“Just for a few minutes,” Jupiter promised. Definitely octopus genes, the moment she pried one hand off, the other was attaching itself to her like a sucker. Balem’s legs weren’t any better. “Caine? Help?”

 

He still looked a little sour, but Caine crept forward dutifully, peeling Balem away. “C’mon, pup,” he muttered. “You can teach me all the ways you’ve been torturing Kiza.”

 

“Hey!”

 

“Go on,” Jupiter urged when Balem just rubbed his face angrily against Caine’s chest. He didn’t try to pull away though and that, frankly, was a miracle. The Balem of their first meeting wouldn’t have dared to demand his mother’s attention, not like this, and the Balem of just a few hours before probably would have thrown a fearful fit at being separated. At least he seemed comfortable with Stinger and the others. Hopefully they were finding some sort of balanc—

 

Jupiter froze.

 

She watched as Caine carted Balem towards the door, the others trailing after him. That wasn’t odd, of course. What _was_ odd was that Balem’s legs were beginning to brush the middle of Caine’s thighs.

 

Had he gotten _taller_?

 

Jupiter looked down at her own arms, noting the residual ache from carrying Balem around all day.

 

He was definitely getting heavier.

 

Find a balance. Right. Didn’t look like that balance would be needed for much longer though. What had Chicanery said? Soon. _Really_ soon.

 

“— _Jupiter_.”

 

She jerked, finding only Kalique and Titus still at the table. They were staring at her. The latter smirked.

 

“Or do you prefer ‘Seraphi’ now?” He asked, his voice oddly soft.

 

“No,” Jupiter stumbled. “Sorry. I—”

 

“Hey!” The shout startled them all. Balem was back in the archway, sticking his head through the force-field and wielding that deadly, accusing finger. “Don’t you be mean to my Mother! If you do them I’m going to— _humff!_ ”

 

The last Jupiter saw was Kiza springing forward, slapping a hand over Balem’s mouth, and carting him off like a sack of potatoes. The image—and her not-son’s not-threat—gave her a much needed confidence boost.

 

Hell. He hadn’t changed back yet.

 

And there were two other not-kids to deal with.

 

“So.” Jupiter said. She straightened, sitting tall and poised. “You had something you wanted to say?”


	7. Chapter 7

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello, friends! So sorry for the long wait for this chapter - end of the year craziness is upon me. But it is here now and hopefully worth the wait ^__^
> 
> I'm thinking there might be one more chapter and an epilogue to this... possibly two more chapters depending on how things play out. We'll have to see. Either way, this is already about 25,000 words longer than I expected. (You all are terrible with your awesome prompts and kind reviews and support that keeps writers writing. Absolutely awful :D)
> 
> Onwards!

“If you think you’re going to trick Balem into signing over all his planets or something, well, I’m not gonna let you.”

 

Jupiter crossed her arms, bristling when Titus snorted into his drink.

 

“You won’t let us,” he drawled. “Ah, Jupiter. Your threats are so very inspiring. Still haven’t finished reading up on our legal system, have you?”

 

Kalique put a hand on his arm, drawing them both up and moving to sit beside Jupiter. Packed close together now, in a half circle nearly knee to knee, Kalique smiled in what she probably thought was a reassuring manner.

 

“We couldn’t do such a thing even if we wished to,” she said.

 

“Meaning you looked up the law just to check.”

 

Kalique’s smile spasmed. “As I said, it’s an impossibility; certainly impossible now that you’ve claimed your inheritance. So long as Balem remains a minor, it is you, Jupiter, who has control over his assets. If anything, you are the threat here.”

 

“Such a threat,” Titus chuckled.

 

Jupiter pursed her lips. “Kalique—”

 

“Not that you’d ever take advantage,” she interrupted, shaking her head. “I know that. _We_ know. That’s my point. I think Balem knew it too.”

 

Kalique stood, returning to her original seat and bending delicately to retrieve something beneath it. She returned with a colorful object tucked under one arm.

 

“Here,” she said and handed it to Jupiter.

 

Of all the things she’d expected Kalique to give her, a picture book was remarkably low on the list. Titus didn’t seem to think much of it though—just kept bouncing his leg and staring up at the ceiling—so Jupiter slowly examined the cover, noting the vibrant paints meant for children and the distinguishing, cartoon-like figures. The inside was much the same, but the rest of the book was written in a language that swirled and dipped across the page, one Jupiter wasn’t able to read. She traced a finger over the weaving pattern, noting its familiarity but not quite able to place it.

 

“It’s Durasi,” Kalique said softly. “There are very few children’s books written in the Entitled language, you understand—we have so few children—but this one is remarkably popular.”

 

“So what,” Jupiter shrugged, but he hand kept stroking the cover. “It this... a gift?” No way. “You want me to give this to Balem?”

 

“It _is_ Balem’s,” Titus said. “While you were off playing nursemaid, I actually attempted to figure out why my dear brother was turned into a pint-sized brat.”

 

“You mean you hoped you’d find proof that it was permanent,” Kalique murmured.

 

“Yes, yes, what have you, sister. The point is that the rat splice he’s so fond of is a surprisingly respectful creature. Never went into my brother’s private quarters, even during this emergency. I have no such qualms.” Titus waved a hand. “Found this on the bed. Speaks volumes, wouldn’t you say? Unless brother has a penchant for kiddie toys I wasn’t aware of...”

 

Jupiter thought of the Balem from before—cold and imperial, so above them all that he sneered at the very ground he was forced to walk upon. No, the image of that Balem enjoying a kid’s book was laughable.

 

“Well maybe we actually agree on something, Titus.” She said. “But considering that I can’t read this, mind cluing me in?”

 

Titus gasped. “You need my _help_?” he said, fluttering a hand dramatically around his heart.

 

“The translation isn’t important,” Kalique cut in. She leaned forward. “It’s the story, Jupiter. Have you ever heard of Liam?”

 

Admittedly it took her a moment. With all the craziness of the last day—two days?—drawing up a comparatively insignificant conversation took more brain power than Jupiter had to spare. She wearily rubbed a hand over her eyes, the other still stroking the book’s cover, and nodded.

 

“Yeah,” she said. “Yeah, uh, Stinger mentioned him? Some legend. Guy gets all sad over his lost love and kills himself with Regene-X. Sounds entertaining.”

 

Kalique shrugged. “That is admittedly one of the less... inspiring versions. The myths we Abrasaxs encounter over the millennia are numerous, obviously, though there are a choice few that remain with the Entitled and pass among us. Often these stories are considered grim by outsiders, even if they contain morals—a bit like a collection of German tales popular on your Earth, yes? But this,” Kalique tapped the book. “This was written for young Entitles, so as you can imagine the story was adapted somewhat. Liam believes his love has perished—a youth named Cryian in this version, known for his dangerous antics—and, as you say, he attempts suicide by Regene-X.”

 

“Who even does that?” Titus muttered.

 

Jupiter smiled. “Now you and Kiza have something in common.”

“Heaven forbid.”

 

“ _But_ ,” Kalique continued forcefully. “Cryian finds Liam before the process is complete. Just an infant, floating in his pool.” She turned to that page and Jupiter reared back at, yep, the image of a naked baby almost-drowning. Lovely. “Cryian cares for Liam as he grows into adulthood for the second time, developing a far deeper bond than they originally had. Cryian becomes father, mother, and lover entwined, while Liam is both child and partner. It is meant to teach Entitles the importance of connections and loyalty.” Kalique paused. “As well as the potential dangers of Regene-X, of course. There’s a reason we now code our ideal genetic state into the computer, prior to entering the pool.”

 

Jupiter looked up. “Wooooow. You guys really have a thing for the incest don’t you.” She shook the text. “I’m not reading this to Balem, you creeps.”

 

Titus rolled his eyes. “It was already in his room, or weren’t you listening? I can honestly say that my dear, elder brother has never expressed interest in children’s books before, so either he’s actually as good at keeping secrets as he _thinks_ he is, or, as sister believes, he’s recreating the story.”

 

“Recreating…?” Jupiter trailed off, the food in her stomach starting to churn unpleasantly. She knew she shouldn’t have eaten.

 

“It was deliberate,” Kalique confirmed. Her voice was more gentle than Jupiter had ever heard it. “But you already suspected that, yes? Oh, Jupiter. You’re so _nice_. So much like a young Earthling. Our mother, Seraphi... she did love us, in her own way, but she loved the _idea_ of us more. Balem was her jewel… until she grew bored of him. Can you understand what that did to my brother? Balem, more than either of us, was crafted to love her. Yet she replaced him—or tried to—with me. I was replaced with Titus, and no doubt Titus too would have been replaced, had Seraphi lived long enough to commit to such an act.”

 

“Commit?” Jupiter mouthed.

 

“She’d been speaking with geneticists for some months before her death.” Titus took a healthy swallow of his drink. “Lucky me. Would have had a much smaller inheritance if mother hadn’t died.”

 

“You mean if Balem hadn’t killed her.”

 

“We don’t know what happened that night,” Kalique said sharply. “But if he _did_ … by the gods, Jupiter, can you blame him? I cannot. I love my brother—no. Don’t sneer. I do. Do you doubt that I could or would have him killed if I didn’t? _Jupiter_. Oh calm yourself, he is safe here, and you are missing the point. Balem was thrilled when we found you. Your precious Earth never meant more to him than you. Never.”

 

Jupiter gapped like a fish, an erratic laugh escaping her. “Right. Sure. He wasn’t obsessed with getting Earth _at all_.”

 

“Well—”

 

“And he never tried to kill me, of course. Nope. Definitely not. Certainly not with a fucking _crowbar_.”

 

Kalique waved a trembling hand. “My brother is impulsive. He’s… complicated. I never claimed otherwise, but he was attempting to kill our _mother_ , Jupiter. Someone he saw as Seraphi. It admittedly took him longer to see _you_ , but when he did, you must believe me when I say that no one was more pleased to learn of your survival than Balem. No one.”

 

Jupiter thought back to the weeks following the refinery’s collapse and Balem’s frankly unexpected silence. Caine and the Aegis had pulled Jupiter from the wreckage, her family close behind, all of them rocketing back towards Earth on too little fuel and too much adrenaline. Within days they’d heard the reports of Balem’s survival and the ensuring weeks had been an intense waiting game—waiting for another kidnapping, another attempt on Jupiter’s life…

 

But nothing came.

 

The weeks turned into months and the only peep they heard from Balem was through Advocate Bob, just a happy note stating that the eldest Abrasax had retracted all legal claims on Earth. They’d assumed it was some sort of trap—of course they had—a false sense of security… and Jupiter had rightly followed the news with another month of paranoia, placing covert guards around her family, finding excuses to sleep over at Stinger’s…

 

Yet there was nothing. Nothing at all.

 

Nothing until Chicanery showed up drunk at her house, anyway.

 

Jupiter tried to imagine it then. A change—if a change it was—taking hold of Balem. She remembered the fight. The smoke of the refinery, the slash of metal against her back, Balem at her feet and the knowledge that she could do anything to him, shouted out in his bleeding lip and trembling form. What she’d done though was to drop the pipe, “I’m not your damn mother” and now, with Kalique looking on in earnest, Jupiter wondered if Balem had actually _heard_ her.

 

What might that have done to him? Jupiter wasn’t stupid. The stories she’s heard, what her Balem—here and now—had said about his mother... Seraphi wasn’t one to lay down her weapon. So what had Balem thought? Watching her do just that, hearing her words ( _hearing_ them), falling the short distance to the level below, watching as Caine swept her away...

 

Jupiter wasn’t a narcissist either (well, not always. She was damn awesome sometimes, to be fair), but even she could imagine the picture Balem might have painted of her then: a woman who looked like his mother, with her wit and her charm (according to Titus anyway) but who was softer, kinder, built on the sort of characteristics that scrubbing toilets provided. It was the same picture Caine sometimes described to her... only stronger. And how alluring would that have been to Balem? How tempting?

 

Tempting enough to try and relive his childhood? With a better ‘Seraphi’?

 

With Jupiter?

 

“He is not that sentimental,” Jupiter muttered. It was mostly to herself though.

 

“But he is,” Kalique insisted. “For all his initial, murderous intent, I think he’s quite fond of you.”

 

Jupiter stared. “You all are sick.”

 

“Guilty as charged,” Titus said and grabbed another bottle.

 

“You’ve had enough,” Jupiter growled and shoved the wine away. Titus’ eyebrow shot up.

 

“Mothering _me_ now, are you?” he asked.

 

“I don’t know. Do you want me to?” Jupiter glared at them both. “Seriously. Am I going to wake up a month from now and find a mini Kalique and a pintsized Titus knocking on my front door?”

 

Kalique smiled, but it was a sad, fleeting one. “No. Though I do still want to get to know you better, Jupiter. Just as I said when we first met. That hasn’t changed.”

 

“Ditto,” Titus leaned back, smirking coquettishly. He ever so slowly licked his lips. “I’d love to get to know Mother 2.0.”

 

“And we’re done,” Jupiter said, standing quickly. She shoved the book back into Kalique’s lap, neither wanting to see the pictures nor try to read the words. She whirled, stalked by the table, grabbed another croissant on her way just to be petty. Jupiter was nearly at the force-field when Kalique’s voice rang out.

 

“Be kind to him,” she said. “If not for the Balem you met, then for the one you’ve been caring for.”

 

Jupiter turned, something scathing poised on her lips—or perhaps something honest—when she caught a flash of white in her peripheral vision and a small body came flying through the force-field. She only had time to open her arms, instinctually, before Balem was crawling up her body, monkey-style.

 

“Mother,” he breathed, bouncing slightly in his arms. “Oh, Mother, we played tag! Do you know what tag is, Mother? Kiza showed it to me and Caine was fast but I’m so much faster and all the pretty silver orbs were joining in and then Kiza tripped! And I laughed and then T’sing—she’s pretty, isn’t she, Mother?—she said it’s not nice to laugh at people but Stinger said you can laugh at your friends and I guess that’s okay because Kiza is a splice and you can laugh at splices AND she’s a friend so I can laugh at her all the time, right? Right, Mother? Mother?”

 

“Yeah, kid.” Jupiter said. Her head was whirling, trying to reconcile the Balem she’d been thinking of with the one currently in her arms. They were so different... though then again, maybe not. Not if Kalique was right in her assumptions. Jupiter turned her gaze back towards the siblings while Balem angrily patted her cheek.

 

“ _Mother._ Mother aren’t you done speaking to them? Can we go now, Mother?”

 

“Yeah...”

 

Just then the rest of the group wandered back into the room, looking faintly bedraggled. Kiza was stiffly undoing a knot in her hair (that looked like it might have turned to cement from saliva) while Caine followed behind, wearily shutting his eyes every few steps. Stinger trailed after him, looking torn between amusement and disbelief, while T’sing watched Balem with a faint, almost pleased smile lighting her lips. Bringing up the rear were Malidictes and Guano, the former angrily nudging the surveillance away while the latter peered at the group curiously, her wings and arms animated.

 

“Your Majesty,” Caine said, so tiredly, and Jupiter finally felt a grin springing up within her. That had been... what? Ten minutes? Fifteen? And already Caine looked ready to collapse.

 

“What a brave, strong skyjacker you are,” she cooed. Only a thin veil of sarcasm distinguished the words as teasing. Balem looked between them, pouting.

 

Not even glancing his way, Caine leaned forward to plug Balem’s ears.

 

“Please tell me you don’t want children,” he said hurriedly, solemnly, and Jupiter busted out laughing so hard she nearly dropped her charge.

 

“Off me, splice!” Balem cried, shaking the hands away. He glared up at Caine.

 

“ _Caine_ ,” Jupiter wheezed.

 

“Off me, Caine.” Balem groused and she hadn’t meant it as a correction, but his tiny, offended face and Caine’s resigned exhaustion just set her off again. Jupiter felt something finally loosening within her when Caine muttered a question about how many sweets Balem had snuck during lunch. He placed a hand on Jupiter’s arm and leaned nearly his whole weight against it, absolutely done in. With a miniature growl, Balem reached across her chest to push Caine’s hand away. Face stony, he deliberately put it back on her shoulder. Another push. Place, push, place, push—Jupiter started choking as she realized that, yes, she actually had two kids to look after, thank you very much.

 

“Well I’m glad you find this amusing, My Queen.” Stinger grumbled. “Boy’s got a pair of legs on him, I’ll give him that. Now who’s idea was it to play tag of all things...” his eyes shifted towards his daughter.

 

“You can’t ground me twice,” Kiza spat, still pulling at her hair.

 

“Really now? Care to watch me.”

 

“You’re the one who tripped me, Dad!”

 

“It’s your own damn fault for not watching where you’re going. Didn’t I train you better than that? We’re starting up your reps again once we get home, mark my words.”

 

Kiza turned to Malidictes, her expression curiously blank. “May I have my weapons back, please?” she asked sweetly. Too sweetly.

 

“Uh...” he blinked them, well, owlishly.

 

“I’ve got a knife,” Guano said helpfully, pulling one from her boot.

 

“Oooo perfect! Thanks.”

 

“No problem. Love a good knife.”

 

“Me too! Now see, there’s this awesome thing you can do with knives and fathers…”

 

T’sing got between them, her stance relaxed but her arms poised—just in case.

 

“Are we free to go, your Ladyship?” she asked Kalique. Her tone made it clear which answer was the correct one.

 

“Yeah, we’re leaving.” Jupiter answered for her. With a huff she set Balem back on his feet. At his confused pout she ruffled his hair. “You’re getting heavy, kid.”

 

“I’ll try to do something about that, Mother,” he answered solemnly.

 

“Oh my god.”

 

Jupiter heard Titus snort behind her and in that moment things seemed to slow. She didn’t bother to turn and face her not-kids—her almost-not-kid didn’t seem eager to let her stray regardless—but Jupiter didn’t need to turn to know their expressions. Maybe it was (god forbid) mother’s instinct. Maybe it was just her. Either way, Jupiter could feel Titus’ overly relaxed demeanor; could sense Kalique’s stuttering gaze along her back. There was tension in the way Caine still had one hand pressed against her shoulder-blades and how Kiza still held her knife... no longer pointed at Stinger. It wasn’t their usual fear though, more a precaution born of experience. No... the emotion her friends were responding to, the unexpected feeling that had them hefting weapons out of instinct, was disappointment.

 

Jupiter hung her head, letting out a groaning sigh against Balem’s head.

 

“Mother?”

 

She smiled because she believed them, and wasn’t that just the craziest thing. Jupiter believed them about Balem (not her Balem), about their strange love of their brother, and their claims that they wouldn’t pull a similar stunt, plunging into pools just to get her attention.

 

Still, just because they said they _wouldn’t_ didn’t mean they didn’t _want_ to.

 

“One sec, squirt.” Jupiter said.

 

Balem had his fingers curled into her jeans, but he let go at her firm nod, immediately latching onto Caine instead. Caine didn’t seem to mind, or he was too preoccupied with watching Jupiter turn, his brow furrowing and one leg swinging forward to follow.

 

“Your Majesty?”

 

Jupiter ignored him, allowing only a quick quirk of her lips when she heard the words, ‘Your Majesty’ sounding remarkably like ‘Mother.’

 

“Let her go, Caine” she heard Stinger say, but by then Jupiter was already halfway back across room. She stopped before Kalique and Titus, both still seated, Kalique straightening further even as Titus seemed to meld into his chair. There was a moment where the three of them collected in a complete silence. Then Kalique lifted the book.

 

“Did you change your mind?” she asked. The joke fell flat.

 

No, instead Jupiter reached to her left and plucked an apple off the table. At least, she thought it was an apple. Same shape, same coloring—red—but there was a thin, abrasive coating that reminded her of scratchy wool. Probably wouldn’t have touched the fruit with a ten-foot pole most days, but in an effort to break the silence Jupiter took a massive bite, pleasantly surprised when she encountered a remarkably sweet taste, like honey. Her eyes might have widened, just a bit.

 

“Li’thiane pears,” Kalique said softly. “Do you like them?”

 

“They’re okay.” Jupiter lied, shrugged her shoulders and took another bite. “Know what I like more?”

 

“What’s that?”

 

“Friends of friends not being treated like shit.” At Kalique’s confused look Jupiter threw her head back, towards Malidictes and Guano. “Funny thing how allying works. You’re all, ‘let’s be friends!’ and I’m like, ‘well that’s creepy and I basically don’t want to _but_ I’ll think about it, though also, fyi, the important thing is I’ve already got friends in them.’” Another head jerk. “You’re not exactly nice to them though. And I get it, I really do—I mean I _don’t_ —but I sorta do, you’re not friends with splices blah blah blah. You’re ... speciest? Splice..ist? You get what I’m saying. What I’m really saying—” Jupiter leaned in close, right up near Kalique’s nose. “Is _treat them better_.”

 

“... Okay,” Kalique breathed.

 

“But really.”

 

“Really.”

 

“Consider it parental guidance,” and before Kalique’s eyes could get any wider—before Jupiter could think too hard on her actions—she dove forward and drove a kiss against Kalique’s forehead. Jupiter could feel her gasp reverberating throughout her body.

 

“And you,” she said, turning to Titus. His grip on the goblet was nearly limp, threatening to send it crashing to the floor. Jupiter straightened it with more confidence than she was really feeling.

 

“Drink less. You’re not a fish. Keep this up and I’m sending you and Chicanery both to rehab.”

 

That caught Titus’ attention. “Balem’s _rat_?” he said incredulously, rearing back in offense.

 

“See?” Jupiter looked to Kalique’s frozen face, jerking her thumb. “That’s what I’m talking about. _Treat them better_. Now hold still, you ass. I’m only doing this once.” Jupiter leaned forward, pitching farther than she had to with Kalique, and planted another kiss on Titus’ brow. She made sure to take a bite of pear first though, just to leave some of the sticky juice behind.

 

Titus didn’t wipe it away. “Only once?” He asked, trying to sound cheeky. Trying.

 

“Depends on how good you are,” Jupiter said.

 

Before she could possibly (somehow) make things worse, Jupiter turned from them, this time with every intention of not looking back. She swiveled on her heel, (snatching up the bowl of pears on the way because _damn_ ) and came face-to-face with the most offended looking six-year-old she’d ever seen.

 

“Mama!” Balem shrieked. No one bothered to correct him on his volume. The rest of the party was gaping just as hard.

 

Jupiter smirked, all at once feeling oddly light. “What? Am I ‘Mama’ now when you’re pissed? Wow you’re _really_ pissed, aren’t you? What happened to the ridiculously obedient kid I had last night? Oh? He’s gone you say? Well thank god for that.” Jupiter lugged him back into her arms, even harder to do now that she had a bowl balanced in her other hand, but whatever. Difficult be damned.

 

“C’mon,” she huffed. “Wipe that look off your face. Here.” Jupiter kissed his forehead, then the tip of his nose. “You get two, yeah? Better?”

 

Balem stared at her, his mouth working in agitation, eyes torn between staring at her and glaring at the stunned Entitles behind her. He finally leaned forward until his chin, mouth, and nose were pressed hard against Jupiter’s chest. He looked straight up at her and mumbled, his voice garbled by the fabric of her shirt, “One more.”

 

Jupiter dropped a kiss to his hair.

 

“Now am I forgiven?” she quipped.

 

“... No. More.”

 

“Wow. You’re greedy, and here Caine hasn’t gotten any yet…”

 

The chamber filled with Balem’s cries, kisses for Kalique, Titus, _and_ Caine proving too much for him. It was with rather massive smile that Jupiter passed back through the force-field, not bothering to say goodbye, simply tossing a, “Thanks for lunch” over her shoulder. The bowl she stuffed into Stinger’s hands, telling him they tasted like honey, and finding a little more peace when he adopted a no doubt exaggerated look of criticism. She walked in tandem with Kiza, shared a respectful nod with T’sing, and listened to the two bicker about who would be taking her home—the Aegis or the rickety space-pod Kiza had hotwired in a hurry. (Jeez. No competition there). There was even a moment, with fingers trailing tentatively over a wing, that Jupiter offered Guano a job. She probably wouldn’t—couldn’t—take it, but the offer at least made her smile.

 

Balem possessively kept hold of Jupiter’s neck the whole way, periodically playing with her earring and working on coming down from his sugar-high.

 

They walked the rest of the ship in silence—full, slightly rattled, but for the most part content. There was only a brief time when, heading down a staircase, Caine dipped his head near Jupiter’s ear, a soft whisper asking the question on all their minds: What had the siblings wanted?

 

Jupiter just shook her head and hefted Balem closer. It didn’t matter. She had all she wanted right here.

 

Funny that.

 

“Your Majesty...”

 

It was Malidictes, the first to speak in what felt like an age. Jupiter already had a leg halfway onto the bridge that would take her into the Aegis, but she stopped, tilting her head curiously.

 

“Your Majesty,” he said again. Malidictes’ feathers ruffled, nervously, and Jupiter wondered all at once if he’d been able to hear her conversation with Kalique. Not that he’d be the type to bring it up. Indeed, he merely extended the hand that held his PADD, a rather familiar image gracing the screen.

 

Jupiter leaned forward. “Is that...?”

 

“Yes, Your Majesty. The security captured a number of images. Lady Kalique thought you might like them to... commemorate this occasion. I’ve transferred copies to all your electronic devices.”

 

“Why, Mal...” Jupiter grinned. “It’s almost like you read my mind.”

 

“Happy to be of service, Your Majesty.” He sounded like he meant it.

 

From the bowls of the Aegis: _“Oy, Queen! You coming or what? ... never should have bothered coming after you.”_

_“You got free food out of it, don’t complain.”_

_“Yeah, better than the stuff you cook, Dad.”_

_“Kiza.”_

_“How many of those pear-things are you gonna eat anyway—?”_

 

“Oh…” Mouth forming a surprised ‘o,’ Jupiter leaned out a little farther. Malidictes met her half way.

 

“Did you actually give Kiza her stuff back?” She whispered.

 

Malidictes gave a tiny, overly innocent shrug. “‘Stuff,’ Your Majesty?”

 

“Oh boy. Yep. We’re leaving before she realizes—coming, Kiza!” Jupiter threw a wink at Malidictes. “By the way, you’re gonna have to step up your picture game!”

 

_“What?”_

 

She was jogging then, T’sing’s voice joining Kiza’s, swearing that she was leaving this god-forsaken place with or without her queen. As Jupiter ran, Balem popped up over her shoulder, growing interested in Malidictes now that they were definitely leaving. He spotted the PADD right before the hatch closed behind them.

 

“Look, Mama! That’s us!”

 

***

 

Back on the ship Balem was standing on her legs, hands on her shoulders, balancing precariously. Jupiter sat in the chair directly beside where T’sing stood to command the ship, even though the captain had said about a hundred times that she never allowed non-personal to loiter around the consul. Never, ever. Which was why a big, cushy chair had magically appeared a few month back.

 

Balem was staring at Nesh. The elephant gave a loud honk in acknowledgement... or a roar... or whatever sound it was that Elephants made. Regardless, it startled Balem and Jupiter had to grab hold of his hands to keep him from falling.

 

“Steady,” she murmured. Her eyes were on her phone though, scrolling through the pictures Malidictes had sent. ‘Commemorate.’ Right. That explained why two-thirds of the collection featured Kalique—bending towards Jupiter, smiling at Jupiter, offering Jupiter food. It honestly looked like a damn, incestuous photo-shoot... which admittedly could have been worse if Titus hadn’t been cut out of most of the images. Jupiter didn’t know which was creepier to think about, the fact that Malidictes might have doctored these mega fast on their walk, or that those silver orbs might be just sentient enough to focus in on their Lady... and make her look like a freaking model to boot.

 

That just wasn’t fair.

 

Still, there were a few decent shots of Balem. One of the two of them edging suspiciously through the hallway (it was warranted), another of him tugging viciously at her ear (Jupiter cringed at her own expression), a whole selection of Balem stuffing whole cupcakes into his mouth when Jupiter wasn’t looking... more than not aided by Stinger and Caine.

 

They were gonna have a talk about that.

 

“Is that us, Mama?” Balem asked. He rocked back and forth on her thighs, pulling backwards until Jupiter’s weight caught him and he could reel himself back in.

 

“Sure is.”

 

A jump. “I want to see!”

 

“Ouch! Don’t do that.”

 

“Sorry, Mama.” A heartfelt, tentative apology. Then:

 

“I wanna seeeeeeee.”

 

“Yeah, yeah. One sec.”

 

Jupiter’s phone vibrated, a text popping up to cover half the image she’d been looking at. She switched over to her app and was surprised to see a tiny, typed ‘Chicanery’ in the corner. The text beneath it though...

 

 

“hs LB ↑ @ all?”

 

Jupiter blinked. “What the fuck?” She said.

 

“Bad, Mama.” Balem giggled.

 

“Fair enough. Hey, Stinger—” Jupiter gestured behind her, waving the phone up so he could see. “Is Chicanery trying to use _textspeak_?”

 

“If he is, he’s super bad at it.”

 

Jupiter whipped around as far as she could without dislodging Balem. That sure as hell wasn’t Stinger (who was off muttering with Caine), but...

 

“ _Guano?_ ”

 

The soldier smiled a fang-filled grin. “What? You asked if I wanted a job.”

 

“Well yeah, but you didn’t exactly say yes!”

 

“I didn’t, because I can’t—accept that is—but I did want to hang with you guys for a bit longer. You’re nice. And entertaining! Lady Kalique won’t mind. Besides, she didn’t give me any orders about _not_ being able to come.”

 

Balem leaned back again, swinging slightly from side-to-side. “That’s smart!”

 

“See?” Guano fluttered her wings happily. “Lord Balem agrees.”

 

Jupiter rolled her eyes. “Validation from the six-year-old. Great, Guano.”

 

“I’ll take what I can get, Your Majesty.”

 

Six... except, maybe seven now? Balem was slightly taller, definitely heavier, and, perhaps, sporting just a little less of that residual baby fat in his cheeks. If Jupiter looked hard enough, she could almost see the man he’d grow to be.

 

Balem’s head snapped back forward, smiling shyly at her.

 

The physical form maybe, but not the soul.

 

Jupiter’s gaze returned to her phone.

 

_Has Lord Balem grown at all?_

 

Her hand rose again. “Caine? Hey, Caine?”

 

“Entering Earth’s atmosphere now, Your Majesty.” T’sing said. Nesh confirmed it with a dip in their altitude.

 

That’s when Jupiter’s phone started going nuts. Of course. Chicanery no doubt had technology to call or text her anywhere in the universe. The rest though? They were limited by Apple’s reach which, while impressive, didn’t expand off world (yet...). As they got closer and closer to the surface, Jupiter’s cell started dinging to indicate one missed call... two... three... _twelve_. Soon that noise was all but overtaken by a constant vibration, alerting her to who knew how many missed texts.

 

Balem glared at the active phone. “Someone really wants you, Mama.” He muttered sourly. “Who is it?”

 

“Your Majesty?” Caine took the hand she still had hanging in the air.

 

Jupiter raised the display so he could see.

 

“Shit,” she squeaked.

 

The caller ID that was flashing across her screen was one Jupiter was intimately familiar with and it just kept flashing ominously, practically growing in speed the closer they got to Earth:

 

_Mom_

_Mom_

_Mom_

_Mom_

_Mom_


	8. Chapter 8

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The Con: *hangs head in shame at the once again massive wait time between chapters*
> 
> The Pro: *does happy dance that graduation/moving are done so more time to write!*
> 
> The Other Pro: *scenes took longer than expected so there will absolutely be another chapter + epilogue*
> 
> The Other, Other Pro: *you're all still awesome*

Jupiter was tripping down the exit steps before the Aegis had fully touched down. She held her cell up with one hand and Balem with the other, chewing her lip and debating between two evils. The rest of her entourage trailed behind her, some far happier than others.

 

Basically, Stinger was chucking pear cores at T’sing’s head.

 

“How many times?” he shouted. “How many times have I said it— _don’t touch down on the damn corn!_ ”

 

He gestured expansively around them. As the dust settled a flattened expanse of—yes—corn appeared, a rather staggering amount if truth be told, given the Aegis’ size. Kiza kicked a half-grown cob sticking out from beneath the metal.

 

“Why do we grow this?” she said. “You hate corn. _I_ hate corn. You don’t even sell it.”

 

“I want corn!” Balem cried. Guano happily tossed him a mushy ear.

 

Stinger gestured again. “Bees. Wind pollination. The hell else was I supposed to do on this dustball?”

 

“Grow a pair?” Caine muttered.

 

T’sing scowled. “Maybe if you’d provided me with an actual landing pad— _as I request three months ago_ —I wouldn’t need to touch down on your precious corn! Exactly what else did you expect me to do?”

 

“Don’t land!” Another well aimed pear core. “Beam us down!”

 

“Her Majesty is clearly in great emotional distress and if you think for one moment that I’m going to leave her—”

 

“But seriously,” Kiza insisted. “Is no one else concerned about what he’s been doing with all that corn?”

 

“Corn,” Balem echoed, tapping it impatiently against Jupiter’s leg. “Corn for you, Mama.”

 

Jupiter took it absently, more focused on scrolling through what seemed like a hundred ‘mom’s on her phone (oh god save her, she was never going to make it out of this alive). There were ‘mom’s that glared green from calls and ‘mom’s glowing an angry blue, sporting bits of text Jupiter wasn’t prepared to read yet. Even as she jumped anxiously from foot to foot her cell buzzed impatiently. Hell. Double hell. _Shit_.

 

Finally, Jupiter did what a lot of people her age did best: ignore it for a while and hope it goes away.

 

Well… she was slightly more mature than that. But only just. Jupiter chose the evil farthest from home (not a difficult choice, that) and highlighted the one unfamiliar number swimming in an ocean of ‘mom’s; an unexpected beacon, sickly pale skin now acting as her light—which was weird and sorta gross, admittedly, but she’d seen weirder in the last year. Grosser too. Let’s be real.

 

Jupiter was still holding Balem’s hand, him swinging his hips periodically against her thigh like he was trying to get her to dance, so Jupiter raised their linked hands in some weird display of solidarity. Balem eagerly rose up on his tiptoes to reach as high as he could, until their hands were trying to level with their friends’ varying, ridiculous expressions. Dimly, as he twirled on his toes, Jupiter registered that she needed to wash Balem’s feet. They were positively filthy.

 

“Aaaaaand—quiet!”

 

She may as well have been a director giving her cue. The rest of Jupiter’s party fell silent, instantly, only the rustling of dead corn to be heard. Then they began to edge forward as one, curious entity. Balem knocked his head against Jupiter’s knee, peering upwards and asking the question on all their minds.

 

“Who are you calling, Mama?”

 

Jupiter lowered there hands. She had opened her mouth to answer when the ringing against her ear finally ceased.

 

“ _Your Majesty_.” Familiar, frazzled nerves. Relief.

 

“Chicanery,” Jupiter echoed his tone. “You need to get down here. _Now_.”

 

***

Jupiter sat atop Stinger’s kitchen counter, kicking her legs and feeling more like a lost kid than the one out in the living room. She could see Balem from here—and him her—and he would periodically turn from where T’sing was patiently washing his feet in a basin to wave to her, mouthing an exaggerated ‘Mama’ (as if she didn’t already know what he was saying) and blowing a kiss. Jupiter smiled back and then let out a soft laugh as Balem turned towards Kiza and Caine, ‘accidentally’ splashing them both with some of the filthy water. Guano, she noted, was the one taking pictures now.

 

Chicanery watched the scene as well, rubbing and squinting his eyes.

 

“I feel as if I’ve missed a great deal...” he murmured.

 

“Yeah.” Jupiter leaned her head against the cabinets behind her, letting out a weary sigh. “Yeah,” she said again. “The short of it is... Balem is still a menace... but he’s kinda _my_ menace now. I know, _I know_. I wasn’t exactly expecting this either. But he’s gotten sweeter—I guess—and Kalique and Titus aren’t quite as bad as I thought—I think—oh, and Kalique found a book about that Liam guy in Balem’s room so she thinks this was all planned or something. As much as you can plan turning yourself into a six-year-old. Hmm? Oh, that’s Guano. She’s hanging with us now, I—are you okay?”

 

Chicanery had mirrored Jupiter’s pose, leaning against the fridge across from her and resting his head against the appliance. He rubbed hard at the bridge of his nose.

 

“Chicanery?”

 

“I don’t know whether to be pleased or appalled.” He said. Slowly, Chicanery opened his eyes, ending them in little slits that peered hard at Jupiter. “You know, Your Majesty, I had no such hopes for this when I called you. I had expected you to outright refuse me my admittedly steep request. Or, a best case scenario, you might take Lord Balem for a few hours, at most, and return him to me in the same... psychological condition as when he left. This, however...” Chicanery waved a hand at the scene behind him, utterly lost for either a term or an explanation.

 

“Shit happens,” Jupiter said. Shrugged. “Unexpected shit,” she amended.

 

“ _Your Majesty_.”

 

“What? In a single day I found out about aliens and reincarnation _and_ that I’m a space queen. This phased me for maybe an hour, tops.”

 

“Far more than that, I’d say.”

 

“Whatever.”

 

They rested in silence for a moment, listening to the sounds just beyond the kitchen wall. Balem’s voice carried the farthest (no surprise there), often slipping a ‘Mama’ into his stories or complaint, no doubt hoping that Jupiter would come back out and join him. She’d made it clear though that she needed to talk to Chicanery. Alone.

 

“How long?” she asked.

 

Jupiter didn’t look up, just continued staring at Stinger’s tiled floor. Didn’t matter. Chicanery knew exactly what she meant.

 

“This is all entirely normal,” he simpered, right on cue. “I assure you. My scientists predicted this brief growth spurt hours ago, they say it’s a herald of the change to come—”

 

“ _How long?_ ”

 

“… Yes.” Chicanery swallowed. “Lord Balem should return to the ship by early tomorrow night.” He hesitated. Nodded sharply. “At the latest. To prepare, you understand.”

 

Tomorrow night. Twenty-four hours then. Less, probably, factoring in travel and buffer time. Kalique’s ridiculous tea party had taken longer than Jupiter had realized. Stinger’s fields were now turning a burnished gold, the sign of a soon to be setting sun, and it hit Jupiter, like the clichéd punch to the gut, that she had just one more sleep, one more day... and then that was it. Balem would be gone. _Balem_ would be back. Balem.

 

“Oh,” she said.

 

“Your Majesty...” Chicanery’s voice was soft, almost comforting. “May I be so bold as to ask you a question?”

 

“Yeah. Yeah, okay. Shoot.”

 

“... Why are you cradling an ear of corn?”

 

Jupiter’s head shot up and—yep. She’d tucked Balem’s little gift unconsciously under one arm and it was still there, the silk now tickling her neck unpleasantly. With a scowl Jupiter tossed it into the sink and grabbed a bee embroidered towel to remove the mush from her shirt.

 

“Way to ruin the mood, Chicanery.” She grumbled.

 

“It was a legitimate question.” He sniffed haughtily. “As is my follow-up: does this bee splice of yours cover every appliance and article of clothing he owns with his descendants? I don’t know whether to consider it co-dependent or narcissistic.”

 

“You realize I can hear you, rat!” Stinger yelled.

 

(Kiza: “He’s got a point, Dad.”)

 

“I want to hear!” Balem—the only one not possessing natural or artificially enhanced hearing—thrust his head into the kitchen, trailing wet footprints all over the tile. His expression melted from furious curiosity to awe as he saw Jupiter sitting up on the counter.

 

“You’re so tall, Mama,” he whispered.

 

Jupiter grinned reluctantly. “Out, kid. Chicanery and I are talking about very important things. Corn cobs and picture books. You know, adult stuff.”

 

“I’m an adult.” Balem whined, stomping his feet in a completely adult fashion. “You promised me we’d play when we got back!”

 

“No I didn’t.”

 

“... You could have.”

 

“Balem.”

 

“I wanna plaaaaaaaay.”

 

“You have to waaaaaaait.” Jupiter said, mimicking his tone. “Caine?”

 

He appeared suddenly in the doorway, heaving Balem up under one arm so that he hung, drooping like an angry sack of potatoes. A couple of bees drifted by and flit happily around Balem’s nose. He blew raspberries at them sullenly.

 

“Your Majesty,” Caine acknowledged, giving her a small smile where Balem couldn’t see. It faded as he turned to Chicanery. Caine opened his mouth, seemed unable to figure out how to address him, and finally settled on a curt nod. Chicanery nodded back, looking slightly faint.

 

Without another word Caine turned on his heel and dragged Balem away. Jupiter thought he might have literally tossed him aside because she heard Balem’s sudden, excited squeal and Kiza’s startled, “I don’t want him!” There was a softer sound underneath it all that might have been T’sing’s laughter.

 

“I absolutely missed a great deal,” Chicanery said.

 

“The times they are a changing,” Jupiter fiddled with the bee dishtowel. “Old rivalries must be put aside and alliances forced and... something like that. Hell, if I can kiss Kalique and Titus—” (“You _what_??”). “—then you’ve got no excuse. Go make nice with Stinger. Your sorta owe him anyway. He was totally right about the Liam thing.”

 

Chicanery recovered and let out an offended huff. “He was not, Your Majesty. It is still a foolish legend. It’s just that this particular story happens to be based off of certain grains of truth. It’s the equivalent of saying you believe in mermaids because you acknowledge the dangers of the sea.” He sniffed again. “All this proves is that my employer—” A wary glance towards Balem’s voice. “—is as obsessed with foolishness as your bee.”

 

Jupiter blinked. “Foolishness. He literally made himself six. For attention. I mean it probably still counts as mega stupid... but it _did_ work.”

 

Chicanery raised his chin. “That is not my place to say, Your Majesty.”

 

Jupiter had a sudden urge to wet the towel and snap Chicanery with it... but she settled for rolling her eyes. “Fine. The point is that Balem is going to be back” (she swallowed hard) “in just a few hours, who knows what kind of mood he’ll be in, and I need to know what you’re going to do about it.”

 

Chicanery’s head snapped forward. “Do?” He asked.

 

“Yes! What, are we just going to ignore this and pretend it never happened?”

 

“Why _yes_.” Chicanery said it even more forcefully than Jupiter had. He let out a startled laugh. “With all due respect, Your Majesty, denial is a beautiful thing.”

 

“Well it’s not for me.” Jupiter hissed the words and a part of her was viciously satisfied to see Chicanery rearing back. She only managed to keep her voice level out of fear that Balem, _her_ Balem, would hear again. That he’d come running.

 

“Look, the craziness of this all aside—and I don’t use that word liberally anymore, you understand—I can’t just forget about all this, and I don’t think Balem can either. Not if he planned it in the first place. Especially not if he remembers all this after he changes back.” Jupiter waved her arms, encompassing herself and the Stinger household and everything in between. She briefly shut her eyes, trying not to imagine how Balem’s ancient mind might warp these recent memories into something else. Something wrong. Jupiter took too long though and Chicanery stumbled forward, wringing his hands but also setting his jaw.

 

“What would you have me do then, Your Majesty? Well? Shall I draw up adoption papers?” He let out another, skittering laugh. It was the most mocking thing he’d said since their confrontation before the refinery and Jupiter had a sudden urge to actually slap him.

 

“Of course not,” she bit out.

 

“What then?”

 

“Just _something_ —”

 

“What?”

 

“I don’t—”

 

“I see.”

 

“Chicanery—”

 

“If you’d simply tell your humble servant—”

 

“ _I DON’T KNOW!”_

 

So much for being quiet. Jupiter’s voice ricocheted off the kitchen’s wooden beams, slicing through the air and silencing the occupants nearby. She closed her eyes again and, breathing hard, focused in on Balem’s shriek of worry, Caine talking him down, Kiza murmuring much of the same. It was Guano and T’sing’s voices who asked if something should be done and Stinger who said no. A minute passed. Then another. By the third they they were back to their strained conversations, the ticking of the clock too loud, and Jupiter was left pressing a hand to her neck, feeling the hot, embarrassed flush there. She took a few more breaths through her nose and let them out through her mouth. Harshly.

 

Jupiter opened her eyes and saw Chicanery standing mute.

 

“Sorry,” Jupiter exhaled.

 

“No... no, I—” Chicanery drew in a shaking breath, straightening his shirt. “It appears it is I who has made a grave and unfounded assumption. I did not think...” Chicanery stopped. Started again.

 

“You do actually care for him,” he stated, sounding shocked at his own words.

 

“Yeah, well. Don’t make something of it.” Jupiter rolled her eyes as best she could, leaning forward to shove his shoulder when Chicanery just stared dumbly. “Are you really surprised? Because that’s sort of insulting. And by ‘sort of’ I mean completely. I’m not a monster. Besides, he’s not the Balem we knew, okay? Or even the one you had secluded on your ship for a damn month—still a bad idea, by the way. He’s just different, and now he’s gonna be different again, and I guess that’s freaking me out a little. Only a minuscule bit, you understand. Like... like, whiplash. Twice. In two days. Oh my god its only been two days. Wow. Okay... it is what it is, right? It’s fine! Don’t know what I expected you to do anyway. Adoption papers?” Jupiter snorted, dropping to her feet and nudging Chicanery’s still frozen frame. “You did that and Bob would be drawing up three sets, poor guy.”

 

Chicanery stumbled. “Three...?”

 

“I think that would be too much for Kalique and Titus.” Jupiter patted him on the back as Chicanery choked. “It’s a bad idea all around. Really. And we’ll… _I’ll_ deal with Balem whenever he changes. However he changes. Cool? Cool. It’s fine. Sorry I dragged you down here and stuff, just to yell a bit. Yeah… sorry. I’ll get him back to your ship by tomorrow at dinner no prob.”

 

“Tomorrow?” That caught Chicanery’s attention. He shot up under her hand. “Your Majesty, I did say ‘at the latest.’ I had assumed you’d called me to take Lord Balem back _now_.”

 

“You and your assumptions.” Jupiter laughed, then shut up real quick when Chicanery continued to stare. “No.”

 

“… Yes?”

 

“ _No_.”

 

“Your Majesty.”

 

“Don’t ‘Majesty’ me. I can’t believe for a second that you actually want to take him back any earlier than you have to. _Plus_ ,” she forged on, “do you really want him back after he’s actually gotten to know me? And you’re separating us? Betcha he’ll scream bloody murder about that. That isn’t even taking into account the possible property damage. You’re already in deep for that ship, huh...?”

 

Chicanery’s mouth snapped shut.

 

“Like I thought. Besides,” Jupiter grimaced. “There’s something else we gotta do first.”

 

“Which would be, Your Majesty?”

 

Solemnly, Jupiter pulled her cell from her pocket, which Chicanery could now see was vibrating continuously like a large, angry wasp. He backed up a step and Jupiter nodded in recognition of that fear.

 

“I’ve been stalling,” she admitted. “I mean, we did need to have this tete-a-tete, but...” she shrugged, shaking the phone as if that explained it all.

 

“Your Majesty? I don’t understand.”

 

“Mom’s calling,” Jupiter whispered, enunciating the words, humming as Chicanery’s eyes went impossibly wide. “Horrible, isn’t it? In fact, it would be a shame to send you back so soon. Before all the drama gets going. How about you finish what you started, Chicanery? This is, at its core, _your_ fault.”

 

Jupiter firmly linked arms with a stuttering splice, dragging him into the living room—to Balem’s utter delight—before he could do anything about it.

 

“And you never know, there might just be some vodka left with your name on it.”

 

(“One can only hope, Your Majesty”).

 

***

 

The funny thing about life is that sometimes it repeats itself.

 

Jupiter supposed she should be glad the repetition was a car ride instead of, say, her family getting kidnapped. Or nearly dying in the flaming wreckage of a factory designed to tear out your genetic, immortal essence. Or another tea with her not-kids. Things like that.

 

Indeed, it was small favors like this that kept Jupiter sane.

 

As it was, the car was uncomfortably hot (not refinery-collapsing-into-a-molten-fireball hot though. Again, perspective). Heading in the opposite direction this time, they’d managed to smush a fair number more into Stinger’s truck. The owner was once again at the wheel, with Chicanery once again at his side, the two of them bickering like an old inter-species couple and casting each other hostile looks.

 

Jupiter thought their friendship was developing quite nicely.

 

Kiza was again on her right, twisting awkwardly to get a picture without elbowing T’sing in the face. The captain was pressed up hard against the window but didn’t seem to think much of it. She was too busy giving Kiza lighting and angle tips, periodically pressing buttons on her wrist that, supposedly, sent the youngest Apini a host of filters to play with. The fact that T’sing would use her miniature computer to house both remote control of the Aegis and the sorta effects Jupiter found on Instagram didn’t surprise her in the slightest.

 

(Of course, when she’d brought up Instagram, T’sing had furrowed her brow, looked it up, and then sneered something awful. _Those_ filters, she said, were primitive crap and no Queen of hers was going to receive an album layered with such inferiority. Absolutely _not_ ).

 

…Okay then).

 

Guano was the only one not mashed into the interior like a particularly done-in sardine. Her wings just didn’t allow for it. So she’d climbed happily into the back bed, proclaiming that Lady Kalique had never let her ride in a truck before, and assuring Jupiter that she’d crush any passerby's that got too close. Don’t do that, Guano. I’m happy to do it, Your Majesty. No really. Don’t.

 

Caine was the only sardine keeping Jupiter sane. At least, he was valiantly attempting it. He was pressed in on her left, furiously undoing the braids that Balem kept giving her (and the term ‘braid’ was used very, very loosely. Kinda like her hair itself).

 

“It’s under next, not across.” Caine growled. He gently tugged apart a knot in Jupiter’s hair as Balem fumed.

 

“You’re making Mama look bad!”

 

“ _You’re_ making her look bad, pup.”

 

Balem gapped in what appeared to be true, unforgivable offense. Hands digging viciously into Jupiter’s jeans (“Ow, ow, ow, I didn’t ask for this…”) he managed to raise a shaking finger as his face went from pale to an ugly, purplish red.

 

“ _I could have you executed for that lie!_ ” He shrieked. Jupiter tried to massage her eardrum.

 

“No shouting in the truck,” Stinger called.

 

“He knows the word ‘execute’?” T’sing asked. Paused. “… Of course he does.”

 

“Yeeeessss video. Why didn’t I think of this before??” Kiza angled her phone to catch Caine’s expression. It was, unsurprisingly, pretty blasé.

 

He stared Balem down.

 

“You gave Her Majesty frizzy pigtails,” he accused. Caine’s words were slow and purposeful. “Using _corn husks_.”

 

Jupiter looked to the floor where the incriminating evidence lay. Balem had indeed spent the first half hour of their ride shedding another ear of corn he’d found tossed into the backseat, carefully rolling the husk strips into “ribbons” (not exactly), and then trying to tie off Jupiter’s pigtails with them. Needless to say, it hadn’t worked out too well. All they’d really gotten out of the makeover was a frustrated Balem, a horrified Caine, and Jupiter— whose hair was now sticky with who even knew what. She wondered, feeling vaguely sick, if Stinger had worms in his crops.

 

“Corn and honey. Stinger, you’ve really got a fixation with food.” No one seemed to hear her.

 

“Mama loves me more!” Balem said, still taunting Caine. He was alternating between clinging to Jupiter and daring to leave her lap in order to poke Caine in the ribs. For his part, Caine bore the physical abuse well, if not the verbal.

 

“That’s a lie,” he bit out.

 

“Is not, is not! I’m her son!”

 

“Well I’m her—!” Caine stopped just in time, swallowing the word with a disgruntled twist of his lips. “I’m her _friend_ ,” he amended, soaking up the approving smile Jupiter sent his way.

 

She almost didn’t grant it. He was arguing with a six-year-old.

 

Not that Balem was your normal brat.

 

“Nawh, nawh I’m her friend too so I win and I’ll execute you later! Right, Mama?”

 

“No executions,” she intoned, trying to get Balem’s hair back in order as he pouted and squirmed. “And I love you all equally. Love isn’t finite, you dork.”

 

“Just a liiiiitle more?”

 

“Differently,” she insisted. Jupiter noted a pair of shoulders tensing in front of her and tried valiantly not to laugh. “Yes, Chicanery. That includes you too.”

 

“Ah...well, thank you, Your Majesty.” It came out as a rather deferential question.

 

“Even if your texting does suck.”

 

He whirled. “I thought it was quite good for a first attempt!”

 

“No one writes like that, Chicanery. _No one_.”

 

“No one,” Balem repeated, laughing at his expression.

 

“Your Majesty, with all due respect, I’ve seen enough Earth films to know—”

 

“Family photo!” Kiza cried and dove between Jupiter and Chicanery, effectively ending the argument. She lay across Jupiter’s lap, Balem smashed behind her back, Caine pressed in from the side while T’sing managed to get half her face in. Jupiter suffered through multiple shots, complaining between exaggerated smiles, but actually enjoying the feel of them all piled on top of her. Balem especially. The hair tickling under her nose still smelled like Stinger’s shampoo. His hand found hers before every click.

 

“I have never been more pleased to sit up front with you, bee.” Chicanery said. Stinger nodded gravely.

 

“Don’t worry,” Kiza said, showing T’sing the results. “Those weren’t all selfies. I caught a few of you too. You’re actually sorta cute once you get past the vampiric pale-as-death stuff.”

 

“ _What?_ ” Chicanery made a grab for the phone and missed by a mile. On his right, Stinger floored the truck far past the speed limit. If anyone had been able to see his expression, they would have recognized the look of a father trying to outrun his daughter’s flirting.

 

“I think,” Jupiter said, turning to Caine. “That this trip really, _really_ needs to end.”

 

“Yeah! Are we almost there, Mama?” Balem tugged gently at the remains of her braid. “Where are we _going_?”

 

The whole car fell silent.

 

In the silence—the first they’d had since piling in—heads turned at the now audible buzzing coming from Jupiter’s pocket. She could feel her cheeks heating and stubbornly crossed her arms as Kiza snapped another picture. Balem titled his head curiously at the noise.

 

“Someone wants you, Mama.” For once, there was only curiosity in his voice.

 

“Yep.”

 

“Aren’t you going to answer?”

 

“Noooooope.” At his scrunching nose Jupiter sighed, gave it a flick (“Mama!”), flipped Balem around, and locked her arms firmly around his. He snuggled happily against her chest, craning his face upwards in anticipation.

 

“I don’t need to answer it because we’re going to visit her.” Jupiter said. That was basically true. Sorta.

 

“Her?”

 

“… Aleksa. She’s a friend. You know I’ve been living on this planet? Well, she’s the friend I’ve been living with. Along with… other friends.”

 

And wow, that all came out awkward. Jupiter wasn’t the only one who thought so either, if T’sing’s hand up over her mouth and Chicanery’s shaking head were anything to go by. She tried to cross her legs, failed with Balem there, and settled for smoothing his hair again.

 

“You have so many friends, Mama.”

 

“Mmm. Hey. You know Russian, Balem?”

 

He slunk further into her lap. “No, Mama. What’s that?”

 

“Nothing important.” Well, that was one weight off her shoulders. Jupiter resigned herself to using ‘mamochka’ for a while.

 

In the lull before their arrival the silence persisted. Fingers still rubbing Balem’s scalp, Jupiter looked up and found Chicanery watching them, his expression pensive. There was a moment of hesitation… but in the end she refused to let her fingers stop. If anything they grew more gentle, more persistent, until Balem was practically purring in her lap, whispered mumbles of “Mama” sometimes slipping from his lips. Chicanery’s face smoothed into something much softer.

 

Smiling herself, Jupiter’s eyes strayed to the rearview mirror, reflecting the trunk’s bed… and there her fingers finally stilled.

 

“Guys,” she said, low and strained. “What the _hell_ is Guano wearing?”

 

Kiza hid a snicker behind her phone. “Oh yeah. I gave her the hat.”

 

“The hat.”

 

“ _My_ hat?” Chicanery’s peace was gone.

 

“Not yours anymore, rat.”

 

“It most certainly is—”

 

“What hat?”

 

“Is not.”

 

“What’s—?”

 

“—burn it—”

 

“—doesn’t even fit her ears.”

 

“ _BURN IT_.”

 

Balem’s voice, rising above them all: “Mama, Mama! _I_ want a hat!”

The silence was, officially, broken.

 

***

 

Seventy minutes later. Sixty-three minutes since the fedora was tossed beneath a semi. Four minutes out from the Jones’:

 

“Mama?”

 

“Yeah, kid?”

 

“Remember when you gave me a bath and a bee shirt and Caine had to sleep outside like a _dog_ —”

 

“I remember,” Jupiter cut in, holding Caine back. (“Outside the door, brat! Guarding you _both_!”)

 

“Remember when you said to tell me when I needed things?”

 

“Yeeeah…”

 

“You told me to tell you when I needed to pee.”

 

Balem paused significantly.

 

“I need to pee.”

 

***

 

Two resigned seconds later:

 

“Of course you do.”


	9. Chapter 9

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *crawls out of the abyss* I HAVE A CHAPTER! *collapses and dies* 
> 
> I literally have so many excuses: work, family, sickness, writer's block, complete and utter laziness... but the point is it's HERE and I SWEAR the (shorter!) epilogue will not take this long to arrive. 
> 
> Almost to the finish line, friends! ^__^

Jupiter had a whole plan worked out.

 

It wasn’t the most elaborate thing in the world, but then again, wasn’t that a good thing? (Att least according to the movies). She’d tell her mom something resembling the truth. Chicanery had been husband number nine of Katharine’s—he looked rich and pathetic enough—whom Jupiter had met during one of her post-cleaning, girl-chat sessions. A divorce had occurred, as they tend to do, and Jupiter hadn’t seen Chicanery since their last, brief, totally innocent run in. However (plot twist!) turns out he and Katharine had a child together (sorry, Katharine), whom Chicanery was raising to the very best of his nearly non-existent ability. Nearing the end of his rope, still grieving for his admittedly gorgeous wife, when Chicanery had been in need of sleep he’d turned, in desperation, to one of his few trustworthy acquaintances in this country. (Jupiter didn’t need to mention just how far Chicanery’s country was from home). So Jupiter had helped out, like a dutiful friend, spending the last night and day watching over the world’s ( _universe’s_ ) most adorable brat. She hadn’t called because... she was still young enough to make stupid decisions? That would work. And Balem was calling her ‘Mama’ because...

 

... childish whimsy?

 

... because though kind and gentle, Katharine wasn’t interested in kids and little Balem was desperate for any kind of mother-figure, to the extent that he was even willing to latch onto a woman he’d met just two days before?

 

Right. That might be hitting just a little too close to home.

 

So maybe ‘simple’ wasn’t the best descriptor for this plan.

 

... Jupiter never claimed it was a _good_ one.

 

As it was, none of that ended up mattering...

 

Mainly because Balem charged headfirst into her house before Jupiter could even begin to explain him.

 

“MOVE, PEASANTS, I GOTTA PEEEEEE” he screamed, pushing past a shocked Aleksa who’d thrown open the door. Jupiter heard numerous, worrying crashes before—presumably— Balem found the restroom. There was sure to be far more screaming if he hadn’t.

 

Jupiter side-eyed Kiza. “‘Peasant,’” she murmured. “You teach him that?”

 

That snicker was going to haunt Jupiter’s dreams for years. “Couldn’t let you turn him into too much of a goody-goody.”

 

Despite the humor in their words, the silence was nearly unbearable. Jupiter stood with Stinger flanking one side, Caine—a hat covering his ears—flanking the other. Kiza leaned against her back while Chicanery and T’sing brought up the rear. They’d left Guano in the truck. Jupiter felt sorta bad about that but really, how the hell was she supposed to explain away wings? The best they’d managed was to throw a tarp over her shoulders like a blanket (because it was freezing out, _right_ ) and Jupiter had given her stern instructions to keep her furry face tilted low. Guano hadn’t seemed too bummed about it. Every few seconds she’d peek out to observe the Jones’ tiny abode with nothing less than rapt awe.

 

Jupiter wished she could feel the same.

 

“I can explain,” she said and shit, she hadn’t meant for those to be the first words out of her mouth. Who could blame her though? Her mom stood on the doorstep with so much furious energy that her hair whipped about her face and her clothes rose towards the heavens. A lot of people would claim that was the wind but no, not it really wasn’t. Jupiter knew wind and this was _certainly_ not it. This was completely, entirely, unequivocally the Fury of Mother.

 

As Aleksa’s legs started working again, Jupiter’s mouth lost its filter.

 

“I can explain, really, really I can. That kid? Uh, cute one? Sorta loud? He’s uh... okay. That’s complicated. Admittedly. Best not start there. Have you met Kiza? Of course you haven’t met Kiza. You know Chicanery! He’s... the one who drank all the vodka. Right. Okay. I’m sorry. Really, really, cook you dinner for a month sorry, oh please don’t kill me, please don’t—HEY LOOK THIS IS CAINE!”

 

Jupiter honestly thought that would stop her. If she’d heard anything in the last few months it was, “When do we see the boyfriend? Who is the boyfriend” and lo and behold, here was the boyfriend, standing three feet away, skittering back as Aleksa charged through (that absolute coward). The others had given them an equally wide berth and Jupiter had no one to duck behind when her mom finally arrived, spewing steam as well as ice. Jupiter curled away from what was no doubt going to be the ear twisting of a century—

 

—and found herself engulfed in her mom’s arms.

 

“Where have you _been_?” Aleksa cried, very nearly breaking Jupiter’s ribs. “You stupid, selfish girl! We’ve been worried sick! You don’t answer, you answer for a moment, you don’t talk, you don’t answer again, on and on and—”

 

“Oh wow. Okay. Hey, Mom. It’s okay...”

 

Jupiter could feel Aleksa shaking and she didn’t think it was entirely from anger. Maybe a part of her still remembered the recent kidnapping. Maybe a deeper part still dwelled on what had happened to Jupiter’s dad.

 

Maybe she’d just been worried about her daughter.

 

Jupiter stood, awkwardly patting her mom’s back, letting her rant to her heart’s content. She could see Stinger with his arm around Kiza. The younger girl squirmed but she made no move to push him away. T’sing and Chicanery stood side by side, two devoted leaders with seemingly nothing in common, now nearly brushing sleeve to sleeve. Guano recklessly hung over the side of the truck, claws to her mouth in squealing delight. Her wings fluttered happily beneath the tarp.

 

Caine stared at Jupiter’s mother. Reverently.

  

“Mom, mom, I can’t breathe. No really, I get that people always say that but I really can’t breathe...”

 

Jupiter was a little focused on the present, so she could be forgiven for missing the little head that pushed forth between Uncle Vassily and Vladie’s legs, looking around wildly. When he spotted Jupiter, Balem let forth a massive grin.

 

“I went to the bathroom all on my own!” He shouted. “Even with the peasants being so loud. Are you proud of me, Mama?”

It was right around when Uncle Vassily whirled on Balem—“ _We’re_ loud?”—and Aunt Nino started repeating faintly, “Mama?” that Jupiter gave up and buried her face in her own mother’s chest, laughing helplessly.

 

***

 

Food helped to heal many wounds.

 

Then again, so did alcohol.

 

There was plenty of both that night at dinner. Despite the extravagant meal with Kalique (not to mention the stress of mom texts...), Jupiter found herself quite hungry, no doubt in large part due to her mom and Aunt Nino’s cooking. And she wasn’t the only one.

 

Balem was certainly a vacuum.

 

He sat directly in Jupiter’s lap, freeing up what little space they had for twice the normal number of dinner guests.

 

Despite the now late hour he’d been fussed over by Aunt Nino, who was sure he wouldn’t enjoy anything too “rich,” and a bowl of porridge deep enough to feed an army had been shoved into his arms. Balem had been consuming massive spoonfuls ever since, flipping them right before he caught the cereal in his lips, sometimes dribbling, more often waving them in front of Jupiter until she took a bite.

 

She took one now, gaze never breaking from her mother’s.

 

“I don’t know what all the fuss is about,” Aunt Nino said. She dumped a mountain of greens onto Caine’s plate. “Young girls stay out late all the time. It’s normal! And look, Aleksa, she was clearly with friends. Nice and safe. Girl friends too,” she said, approvingly seriously at Kiza and T’sing. “It’s good. Healthy even. Certainly you cannot fault her taste,” and she sent a massive wink at Caine.

 

Caine’s albino skin went tomato red.

 

Aleksa’s arm snapped out, pointing straight at Caine—who stilled. She finally broke her staring contest with Jupiter and glared at the splice’s skin, as if it were responsible for all this madness.

 

“You’re...?”

 

“Albino,” Jupiter supplied, only to be hushed.

 

“Like you?” Aleksa said, gaze snapping to Chicanery. He paused with his fork halfway to his mouth.

 

“Yes?” He squeaked. Actually _squeaked_. Jupiter shut her eyes.

 

“But not you?”

 

Stinger flashed a winning smile. “No, Ma’am. Got a good tan on me. Sign of a hard worker—unlike the rest of this lot.”

 

Kiza choked.

 

“Doing what exactly?” Uncle Vassily asked behind a mouthful of food, but he was already nodding in agreement.

 

“I keep bees, sir. Grow corn too. This and that.”

 

Jupiter squeezed her eyes even harder. ‘This and that.’ _Right_.

 

“Corn, yes?”

 

“Yep.”

 

“And you said you were ‘Stinger’?”

 

“Double yep.”

 

“We eat your corn!” Aunt Nino interrupted happily. She mimed chewing her fork like an ear. “You’re the lovely family that gives it away at the farmers market each week. See, Aleksa? What delinquents give free corn? You must not judge so quickly just because they have so many tattoos. You haven’t gotten any tattoos yet, have you, Jupiter dear?”

 

“Uh...” the ‘yet’ sort of threw her for a loop.

 

“Your corn is good!” Uncle Vassily boomed. He patted his stomach for emphasis. “Eat three ears of it myself each sitting. This one though,” he shoved Vladie hard in the chest. “He needs meat on his bones. You keep meat, Stinger?”

 

“Only corn and bees, sir. But if you like the corn you should try the honey. Nothing like it.”

 

“Yeah, that’s because I chat with the bees day and night,” came a mutter. “‘ _Yes_ , you have to keep working. _Yes_ , I know the flowers on Earth suck. _No_ , that’s not an excuse.” Jupiter trod hard on Kiza’s foot.

 

Her mom’s eyes were back on Caine. He let out what might have been a tiny whine in the back of his throat before Aleksa’s gaze snapped to T’sing.

 

“You are...?”

 

“Literally just here for the food, Ma’am.” T’sing took a long swallow of whatever alcohol Uncle Vassily had splashed into her cup. It must have been decent because she took another right after. “I’m quite fond of your daughter,” (“ _Why?_ ” Vladie asked) “And she’s kind enough to let me tag along on her adventures.”

 

“Adventures,” Aleksa said.

 

“That tech is very nice,” Aunt Nino chimed. She gestured to T’sing’s cheek. “Is that one of those new google glass things?”

 

“… Yes.”

 

“And the one outside is Guano,” Chicanery cut in. He withered slightly under the family’s collective stare. “That is… she’s very shy. I brought her a plate and a glass of—well.” His fingers hesitated over his own glass before pushing it away. “I feel I must apologize for my… lapse, when we last met....”

 

“As well as for sneaking my cousin out a window?” Vladie snapped.

 

“You have never snuck girls out windows then?” Uncle Vassily snorted.

 

Chicanery had started turning the same color as Caine. “It’s not… it’s not _like_ that…”

 

“Heaven help us if it was,” Stinger muttered.

 

“Heaven help _you_ …” They were the first words Caine had spoken all night.

 

“Nope,” Jupiter whispered. “Heaven help ME…”

 

Aunt Nino just shrugged. “I don’t see what heaven has to do with it, beyond giving thanks that you came home safe. And bringing with you so many friends! You know, Jupiter, we did worry. So much work and very little play, not many your own age around here, and you always had your head in the clouds, or the stars rather—”

 

“ _That is enough!_ ”

 

Aleksa’s palm came down hard on the table, rattling all the dishes. The entire party went quiet, setting down their forks and bowing their heads.

 

“Enough,” Aleksa said again. She spoke directly to Jupiter. “Do you think me gullible? Mad? This man,” her pointer shot out to skewer Chicanery. “This albino man drinking like a fish demands to see my daughter, in our bedroom, and then escapes out the window with her, to do who knows what throughout the night. Then,” she said, overriding Jupiter’s protest, “You finally answer my calls only to wave me off because you are too ‘busy.’ Busy with what, we ask? I don’t know! You tell me nothing! You miss work, you miss dinner, I call you hundreds of times, I text you—which you say everyone is doing, everyone but you it seems!—and nothing. Nothing at all. Until you show up on your Uncle’s doorstep with your kidnapper,” (Chicanery winced) “some woman twice your age,” (T’sing raised an eyebrow) “the corn man, his daughter, one who hides in the truck, and the BOYFRIEND.” (Caine practically ducked under the table, whimpering in shame).

 

“As if that were not enough,” Aleksa hissed. “As if this odd group of yours did not convince me that you had veered from your path, Jupiter, you come bearing the one thing all mothers fear for their young daughters.” She took a deep breath, steading. “God help me, but I must ask: what are you doing with a child?”

 

All heads turned towards Balem.

 

“I did wonder where he came from,” Vladie muttered.

 

“I heard him say ‘Mama.’” Aunt Nino said. Her voice had suddenly gone soft. “I know I heard that.”

 

“You’d best have misheard.” Uncle Vassily’s own voice was hard.

 

Aleksa took in another breath. “Jupiter?”

 

Instead of answering directly, Jupiter bent to place a light kiss against Balem’s hair. Despite her family’s understandable concern, they were adults, and for what little it was worth, Balem was still in Jupiter’s care for another twenty-four hours. As a mother, even a very temporary one, she hadn’t been blind to his rapid change over the course of the dinner. From his usual messy eating and obsession with sharing with her, Balem had become solely focused on the porridge he’d been given, to the extent that all mentions of him and reactions from Jupiter had gone unacknowledged. Even now, with everyone staring and Jupiter’s lips still against his scalp, Balem did nothing but mechanically shovel food into his mouth.

 

“Balem?” she whispered.

 

It was Caine who leaned across the table, brushing his hand against the miniature wrist. Jupiter looked up just in time to catch her mom’s expression: surprise and outright marvel at how carefully Caine handled the delicate bones. Jupiter knew the feeling well. She’d been equally surprised—and thrilled—to learn that the hard-looking legionnaire had a soft spot a few galaxies wide. She could only imagine what it looked like to Aleksa, this alien stranger reaching for this child.

 

“Hey, cub.” Caine voice was rough, but determined. “Hey. Quit eating for a second.”

 

It wasn’t that Caine’s words startled Balem out of the strange state he was in. Rather, the weight of his hand, the press of Jupiter around him, and the deathly silence of the rest of the table finally seemed to permeate. Balem halted with the massive spoon gripped in both hands, a bit of porridge dripping onto Kiza’s shirt. He blinked, shook himself, and craned his head backwards, trying to find Jupiter. She smiled.

 

“Hello, Mama!” Balem cried. He sounded like he’d just discovered her for the first time.

 

“Hello, yourself.” Jupiter dropped another kiss. “We lost you there for a second. You okay?”

 

“I was hungry, Mama.” The word ‘hungry’ seemed to set Balem off again and he took a long moment to lick more cold porridge from his spoon. “Oh,” he suddenly jerked. “Want some?” and shoved the metal near Jupiter’s lips. He was still staring at it though.

 

“I think I’m good. How about some veggies instead? Here, knock yourself out...”

 

Balem was already devouring Jupiter’s plate as she looked up at Chicanery. He leaned forward, shrugging.

 

“I do believe this is normal, Your—ah. _Jupiter_. Yes. Perfectly normal to expect an increased need for caloric intake given the coming... change.” Chicanery lightly pushed his plate towards Balem as Caine did the same. Kiza, Stinger, and T’sing followed without being asked. It was slightly eerie, watching the normally snobbish Balem accept the offerings without comment—not even an upward glance. He just kept eating, methodically, hardly seeming to notice the taste…let along the group watching hm.

 

The only ones with food still in front of them were Jupiter’s family. Biologically.

 

“I see nothing ‘normal’ here,” Aleksa whispered.

 

“His name is Balem,” Jupiter sighed. “I’m... watching him. For now. He’s not... Yes, he calls me ‘Mama.’ No, I can’t explain that. Not yet—I—” She stopped. Balem wasn’t listening. I didn’t feel like her mom was either. “I get that this is all weird and scary and I _will_ explain it, that’s actually a promise, but right now...” Jupiter swallowed. “I know it’s a lot to ask, but give me time? Just a little. A few days. Two. Tops. Because if I explain Balem then I have to explain it all and it’s a lot, матушка, it’s so much, enough to make your head spin and nearly come off. I can’t tell you right now but I swear, _swear_ , it’s nothing like what you’re thinking.” Jupiter let out a shaky laugh. “Oh god. It’s nothing like what you could imagine at all.”

 

Maybe it was the earnest plea. Maybe it was her use of ‘матушка’a term Jupiter had never bothered to use (but had to now, with Balem sitting right there and devouring a roll). Either way, Aleksa actually hesitated, whatever she’d intended to demand dying softly at her lips.

 

Chicanery finally look a chug of his drink. T’sing set down hers. Caine, in a small gesture, slid his—untouched—towards Jupiter’s mom.

 

“I know it means little,” he said gruffly. “This coming from strangers. But what your daughter says is true. There’s a lot she has to tell you and it’s not something that should be said lightly over dinner.” Caine hesitated. “Also. For what it’s worth, she’s done nothing... immoral.” He looked up suddenly, fiery. “Your daughter hides everything for your protection, not because she has anything to hide.”

 

“Well said,” Stinger murmured.

 

Aleksa looked between them, bearing an expression Jupiter had seen when she and Vladie used to blame one another for accidents that bore equal fault—suspicion mixed with disappointment. There was still concern there though and Jupiter clung to it.

 

“It’s _really_ not what it looks like,” she said, bouncing Balem on her knee, making it look even more like what it supposedly wasn’t. Jupiter shrugged, aiming for the jugular: “Trust me?”

 

It was Aunt Nino who smiled behind her cup.

 

“She is your daughter, sister.” She said. “The very least you owe her is trust.”

 

Aleksa starred at Jupiter another long moment… before slowly nodding. “I always trust you,” she said, clipped. “Despite how it might sometimes seem. You say I don’t understand? Then I don’t. You say you need time to explain? Very well. You have two days. That is all I can bear. If you promise me that, I will promise not to make... judgments.” Her eyes landed on Balem, taking in the same dark hair and the fine, slender cheekbones. “Yes?”

 

Jupiter laughed in relief. “Yes,” she said. “Two days is more than I need.”

 

“What about what we need?” Uncle Vassily cried. “What is going _on_?”

 

“To be continued,” Aunt Nino chuckled and she spooned more potatoes onto his plate with a rather condescending air. “Well. This is not how any of us pictured this night, but it is what it is. We don’t know much, but it would be foolish to overlook what is known. Like this little one’s hunger.” Ignoring Vladie’s cry, Aunt Nino took his plate too and handed it off to Jupiter.

 

She smiled her thanks tucked it under Balem’s chin.

 

“More?” she whispered.

 

“Yes, Mama.”

 

He said it mechanically, instinctually, a remnant of his obedience as much as a truthful answer. Jupiter watched as he took his sixth serving and gobbled it down, hardly sparing a glance for her or the others. The rest of her family looked on with varying levels of shock and Jupiter repressed a dismissive eye-roll. It was almost comic, their surprise at a kid calling her ‘Mama’ and eating three times his weight in food. That was nothing. She could only imagine how they’d react when she told them about splices and gravity boots and inheritances.

 

When she told them.

 

Jupiter caught Caine’s eye, both of them nodding silently. Balem’s presence had vastly overshadowed his arrival, but it was all coming out—sooner rather than later. It wasn’t as if Jupiter has planned this, though a large part of her knew that things like this couldn’t really be planned. Telling your family you were a reincarnated space queen? You didn’t just pencil that into a Sunday afternoon. Balem’s predicament was as good a reason as any to spill the beans... just not quite yet. For now, Balem was still her focus, her one main concern. For as long as she still had a right to _be_ concerned.

 

Watching him work through still more food, Jupiter smoothed a hand over Balem’s bangs.

 

Odd. So odd that she might actually be grateful.

 

“You eat what you want,” she murmured, just loud enough for her mom to hear. She didn’t notice the softening features though, engrossed as she was in watching the child.

 

Stinger was watching too, his cheek propped up against his hand.

 

“Right,” he drawled. “Not to be rude or anything, but its been one hell of a few days. Only one thing’s keeping me from heading back to my damn bed. We getting dessert or not?”

 

Balem’s head snapped up, his eyes glowing with more animation than he’d shown in the last hour combined. He tossed away his potatoes like yesterday’s trash.

 

“I WANT DESSERT! ABRASAX GETS DESSERT BEFORE SPLICE! ME FIRST! ME FIRST!”

 

Uncle Vassily, dull-eyed and wiping toddler spit from his cheek: “The hell is a splice?”

 

***

 

“You’re sure about this, Your Majesty?”

 

“Are _you_ sure?”

 

Caine tilt his head to the side, clearly confused. Jupiter moved close enough that, from a distance, they appeared to be one shadow.

 

“I mean,” she said. “Are you okay with all of this?” ‘This’ was accompanied by a massive arm wave that encompassed... well, everything. The cracked stoop they currently stood on—as normal as normal could be—but facing a truck with a bat splice sprawling in the bed. It included the family behind them, the ones who had basically ignored Caine in favor of staring at an unexpected baby, but who still managed to shoot him quick, suspicious glances, the word ‘boyfriend’ hanging in the backs of everyone’s’ mind. There were the stars above them, carrying a weight almost too large for any two pairs of shoulders, and where they stood now held its own challenges, that of family and commitment. Jupiter shrugged, hoping Caine understood it all.

 

He did.

 

“If you are okay with telling them, Your Majesty, then I am okay with being there when you do.” He lightly laid his forehead against hers. “And for all the days afterwards. If you’ll have me.”

 

Jupiter grinned. “Yeah I will,” and she leaned in for a kiss.

 

“Mama?”

 

Jupiter halted... then kept going. She met the firmness of Caine’s lips (his own hesitation) and lightly nipped until he relaxed. They enjoyed a moment—long enough to last, short enough to be decent—and then pulled apart to face Balem.

 

He stood in the door’s entrance, a bowl of ice cream in one hand while the other smeared it across his lips. He was currently sucking on his spoon angrily.

 

“Balem?” Jupiter said sweetly.

 

“Mama,” he said, mumbling it around the metal. Balem pulled the spoon out of his mouth with a wet ‘smack’ and pointed it like a sword. “You were kissing Caine!”

 

“Yep.”

 

Balem’s eyes narrowed. “You kissed Kalique and Titem too.”

 

Jupiter choked slightly, squeezing Caine’s hand and pulling him forward. “Yeah, but not like that I didn’t... _Titus_ might have liked it that way though. Look,” she said, sweeping Balem back into her arms. He felt twice as heavy from that meal alone. “I kiss Caine because I love Caine. I kiss you because I love you too. I kiss you both differently because I love you differently. Now you’ve got a choice: throw a fit about it or share your ice cream.”

 

Slowly, nearly staring her down, Balem extended his spoon until it bumped Jupiter’s lips. Melted vanilla hit her tongue.

 

“Mmmm,” she said exaggeratedly.

 

“You’re Mama.” Balem said solemnly. His eyes snapped to Caine. “You’re _not_ Papa.”

 

Caine blinked. “Never,” he whispered and turned on his heel so fast that it set Jupiter off. Then he stopped, came back, and snagged the ice cream right out of Balem’s hand. The kid was so shocked he just watched Caine walk away.

 

“THAT’S MINE!” He finally cried.

 

“I need it more than you.”

 

“Mama!”

 

“Share some with Guano!” Jupiter called. She was still laughing into Balem’s curls. “Like taking candy from a baby...hey. Seriously. You had enough food? I can get you more ice cream if you want.”

 

But Balem shook his head, shifting until he was in his normal place within the crook of her arm. “I ate a lot,” he admitted.

 

“Sure did. You know why?”

 

Balem shrugged. “Just hungry.”

 

Just hungry. Nothing was ever ‘just’ with Balem. He was hungry for a very specific reason… not that he knew that.

 

“You’re allowed to be hungry,” Jupiter said and meant it. She lightly rubbed his back.

 

The rest of the group slowly filed out of the door. Caine was already hanging with Guano, the two of them passing the ice cream back and forth. Stinger came trotting out the door next, stopping just long enough to squeeze both Jupiter’s shoulders and mess Balem’s hair—who huffed at Stinger’s retreating back. T’sing gave her a nod and a soft ‘thank you’ for the hospitality. Kiza walked right past them, hand trailing, only for her fingers to get ‘caught’ on Balem’s bracelets. She turned with an exaggerated look of surprise.

 

“You’re not still wearing these, are you?” she asked, mouth parting in shock.

 

“Mine,” Balem said, but he was giggling.

 

“Yeeeeah, except not.”

 

“Mine!”

 

“For now,” Kiza said ominously, only for her smile to drop away at the sudden truth of that statement. Cheap Earth bracelets weren’t exactly the elder Balem’s style.

 

“Keep ‘em as long as you want, squirt.” Kiza said seriously. She raised her phone. “And _you_. I sent you a few pics.”

 

“A few?” Jupiter said, raising an eyebrow.

 

“Give ‘em a few hours to arrive,” and with that Kiza was jogging towards the truck.

 

The only one left was Chicanery.

 

He stood in the doorway, casting looks between Jupiter and—no doubt—her family still in the kitchen. He held a bottle in his hands that Jupiter recognized from Uncle Vassily’s cupboard and the sight made her want to simultaneously howl and burry her face in her hands.

 

“Mama says you drink too much,” Balem murmured and that set her off again.

 

Chicanery straightened to his full height, which admittedly wasn’t very high. “And you eat too much!”

 

Balem blew a raspberry.

 

“Your uncle insisted,” Chicanery sighed. He lifted up the bottle as evidence. “He claims he’s never seen anyone drink as well as his late father, though I, supposedly, came close. He also claims that despite knowing next to nothing of what is going on—his natural state I take it?—he respects a ‘man’ who can drink. For your benefit I did not correct him on his speciest assumptions. Though I do not know, Your Majesty, how I feel about being compared to a human in any way, let alone in that of consuming alcohol.”

 

“Oh just keep your voice down.”

 

There wasn’t much heat in Jupiter’s words though. She’d already committed to telling her family everything, she’d known the day was coming the moment she’d flown off her namesake’s service, whole in body and in mind... she just didn’t need to tell that story tonight. Not while she still had Balem.

 

Jupiter’s eyes met Chicanery’s over the top of a curly head of hair.

 

“Hey.” Jupiter whispered it directly into Balem’s small-shelled ear. “Remember everything you learned? Want to show it to Chicanery?”

 

Balem turned to her, looking like he’d swallowed something rather tart, but Jupiter resolutely kept her face straight. With a long-suffering sigh Balem slid from her grasp, his bare feet landing with a ‘plop’ on the warm pavement. He trotted over to Chicanery (who drew back in alarm) and before the splice had a chance to escape Balem was wrapped about his knees, for all intents and purposes giving him a hug.

 

“What?” Chicanery squeaked.

 

Balem pulled back before Chicanery could recover his composer—let alone find the mental capacity to perhaps ( _maybe_ ) hug him back. Ignoring the horrified expression, Balem tugged at the fabric of Chicanery’s pants and said, “You may continue to partake of the medicine stores” with a magnanimous nod of his head. Then he trotted just as fast as he could back to Jupiter.

 

“Good, Mama?”

 

“The best.”

 

“… And with that I believe I shall leave,” Chicanery said faintly. “Tomorrow?”

 

“Tomorrow,” Jupiter agreed as that knot in her stomach made itself known. She forced it back down.

 

Chicanery tucked the vodka under his arm, but then paused as he came level with Jupiter. His looked to Balem and then looked away just as fast, his adam’s apple bobbing.

 

“We are here,” he murmured. “Should you need us before then.” He scurried away.

 

Jupiter turned back to look at the truck, all of them waving goodbye in their own way. Jupiter kept still. Instead of waving back she watched Balem lift his own hand, sending them off with a sluggish gesture and a stuck-out tongue. He’d see them again of course, in a manner of speaking. The only question was, would he care at all when he did?

 

“C’mon, you. Let’s get inside.”

 

***

 

Inside wasn’t much better.

 

Aleksa was waiting for her the moment Jupiter stepped back through the door, like a predator waiting on prey. Uncle Vassily was with Aunt Nino in the corner, the former gesturing violently at the retreating truck, the latter attempting to sooth. Vladie seemed to have given up completely and was curled on the sofa, flicking through the small TV Jupiter had used her newfound funds to procure (no easy thing to explain, that. Worth it though, if only for his smile). Aleksa was the only one to pay her any mind, arms crossed, staring at her child with a child on her hips.

 

“I should get him to bed,” Jupiter said. Her voice came out scratchy.

 

Balem nuzzled sleepily into her neck. “Bed, Mama?”

 

She waited, watching her own mother, until Aleksa finally dropped her arms with a sigh.

 

“Yes, bed.” She said tiredly. “You’ll be no use to me tomorrow if you haven’t slept. Especially after last night...” Aleksa paused, waiting for Jupiter to fill in exactly what had happened the night before, but she wouldn’t budge. They’d agreed on two days and Jupiter had every intention of using that to her advantage. She sealed her lips with only a hint of regret.

 

“Bed then.” Aleksa admitted defeat. “The boy can come tomorrow so long as he steers clear of the rest of us.”

 

“Right.”

 

“And doesn’t touch any of our client’s things.”

 

“Of course.”

 

“And doesn’t cry the whole time—”

 

“I know, матушка.” The term made Aleksa startle and Jupiter nearly smiled. “Does he look like a kid that’s going to disobey me?”

 

Aleksa looked then, really _looked_ , at the bare toes bumping against Jupiter’s thigh, small hands digging into the back of her t-shirt, and a nose pressed directly into her skin, breathing deeply for scent as much as near-sleep. Slowly, as if in a dream, Aleksa approached and placed a hand against Balem’s back.

 

“Is he yours?” Aleksa asked. So quietly. So soft.

 

Jupiter didn’t answer.

 

In truth, she didn’t know how.

 

***

 

“Look here, Balem.”

 

Food and rest seemed to be the current necessities. Balem had drifted through the conversation with her mom (probably for the best), the awkward goodnights with the rest of the family—a firm pat from Uncle Vassily, rolled eyes from Vladie, the sole kiss from Aunt Nino—the quick wipe down Jupiter had given him with a wet cloth, and the change from Kiza’s baseball shirt to Jupiter’s star shirt. The image had brought up memories, as it no doubt always would, and she’d carried Balem over to the window, his head knocking against her ear.

 

“Hey, squirt. C’mon, just one more second...”

 

Balem finally lifted his heavy head and pressed it forward. Jupiter had to practically pry his eyes open but then, perfectly, he was looking through her telescope.

 

“It’s the stars, Balem...”

 

Letting him have the better view, Jupiter settled for the dimmed version through her window, a result of smog and smudged glass. Even that was spectacular though: a thousand, _infinite_ number of pinpricks shining above them, holding who only knew how many worlds; worlds that Jupiter now knew she’d someday explore. She let her gaze stray out, towards the country roads where her friends were still driving. Maybe, if any of them bothered to look up, they’d all be seeing the same stars together.

 

“Aren’t they beautiful?”

 

Balem scoffed. He pulled away and settled back against Jupiter’s shoulder.

 

“It’s just home, Mama.”

 

With that pronouncement Balem when straight to sleep. Jupiter took them both to bed and followed Balem into her dreams.

 

***

 

_Dreams of blue, watered storybooks. Jupiter rushed, grabbed, saved the pages, but she could no longer read the words—smeared ink and ruffled paper. Still, she stared, until a smaller hand helped her turn the page._

_Hi, Mama._

_Hey, Balem._

 

***

 

Morning.

 

What had woken them the first time? Golden sunshine? A cloud of friendly bees and the smell of waffles wafting from the kitchen?

 

Yeah. Not so much.

 

“Up, up, up, up.” Aleksa said. She didn’t even pretend at subtly, throwing the covers off the bed to reveal one woman and one pissy little boy. Balem’s eyes snapped open when the morning air hit and with a pterodactyl screech he tried to bury himself beneath Jupiter’s body.

 

“Whhhhhy,” Jupiter moaned. She threw an arm over her eyes while Balem commandeered the other.

 

“Don’t complain,” Aleksa snapped. She folded the duvet—ignoring Balem’s tiny growls; his dark eyes tracking her—and immediately began pulling clothes out of the closet for Jupiter. She always did have too much energy in the mornings.

 

“You’ve nothing to complain about,” she continued, tossing shoes now (one landing unpleasantly on Jupiter’s chest). “Don’t know how you managed to take care of this boy on your own for heaven knows how long. We come in last night and you two kids are curled up, no real pajamas to speak of, half hanging off the bed, no duvet... you would both have froze.”

 

“It’s May,” Jupiter groaned. “We weren’t gonna freeze.” She had to admit that it was fairly cool this morning though. Balem seemed to agree, if his hissy-fit shivers were any indication.

 

Aleska noticed them too, raising an eyebrow. “And yet.” She said, tossing a giant sweatshirt Balem’s way. “What was your name again, child?”

 

“Lord Balem! First primary of the all-powerful House of Abrasax, and I will have you executed for this!” With another shriek Balem appeared, only to literally dive beneath Jupiter’s shirt. She could feel him muttering no doubt horrible things against her stomach.

 

“Well you’ve got imagination, I’ll give you that. ‘Balem.’ Not a name I would have chosen.”

 

Aleksa was still buried in the closet, but Jupiter could hear the accusation in her voice. The questions too: iIs he yours? Did you name him? _Why weren’t we told?_ Part of Jupiter wanted to yell about how stupid those accusations were. What, she’d somehow kept a kid secret for seven goddamn years? With their non-existent surplus of cash? And all her free time? Right. Besides, she wouldn’t have chosen ‘Balem’ either.

 

... even though, from one perspective, she had.

 

Seraphi. Ugh.

 

“I’m not sure what I hate her for more,” Jupiter muttered. “Her genocidal tendencies or her questionable aesthetic.”

 

That wasn’t a joke though. Jupiter felt Balem shivering from cold and remembered that just a day or two ago, he’d been shaking for far different reasons. Afraid that she’d be mad at him. That she’d hurt him.

 

_Fuck_ Seraphi.

 

“What are you muttering about over there?”

 

“Nothing, nothing at all. Heave ho!”

 

With one massive effort Jupiter reclaimed her arm, got her hands under Balem, and threw him into the air where he landed, as planned, in the massive collection of laundry Aunt Nino was accumulating. I had the desire effect. Within seconds she heard giggles emanating from beneath socks and shirts, one bare leg sticking out of the pile.

 

“Is he always this foolish?” Aunt Nino yawned. She deliberately dumped her bed sheets atop Balem’s butt.

 

“You’re foolish!” Came the muffled cry.

 

“It’s foolish to be wasting time,” Aleksa said, but there wasn’t much anger there. “Are you getting up or not?”

 

Jupiter got up and the rest of the morning was a surreal blend of the old and the new. Overnight her family seemed to have come to a collective decision: ignore Balem, at least in terms of ignoring his mysteries, his general outsider status. Jupiter rose with him in hand, tucking one more body into the small bathroom they shared, three women and a boy attempted to ready themselves for the day. Sharing toothpaste and teaching Balem how to floss. Helping him with his hair. Her star shirt would do, paired with shorts so small they actually fit the child instead of the girl—which said a little too much about the places Jupiter had tried shopping at. She made coffee for them all, dealing with Balem’s whines that he couldn’t have any, the exchanged looks when he spout the names of foreign, alien drinks he’d been allowed to consume in the past (supposedly). Bacon shut the lot of them up—three times as much for Balem as anyone else, eating with the same, focused intensity he’d shown at dinner. They left the plates in the sink. They grabbed more toast for the road. Then; looking for shoes, failing, looking for a jacking, finding that the day was already warming, collecting their gear and piling into the car. By the time the four of them waved goodbye to the men, Jupiter had the odd sense that she was still dreaming.

 

“It’s glowing, Mama.”

 

She looked down at her phone, bearing a bucket load of texts spanning the night and early morning.

 

So what else was new?

 

Settling her chin in her palm and angling the screen away from her mother (who should have her eyes on the _road_ ) Jupiter started scrolling through the mess:

 

_We’ve arrived home safely, Your Majesty_ \- Caine

 

_‘home’? ‘HOME’??? not ur hous wolf-boy_ \- Kiza

_and did u get my pics?_ \- Kiza

_shouldve arrived by now_ \- Kiza

_unless transfer died_ \- Kiza

_again_ \- Kiza

_u know_ \- Kiza

_fucking country eats it all_ \- Kiza

_tell dad to get me intergalactic service_ \- Kiza

_for my Bday_ \- Kiza

_and we dont know when the hell that is so feel free to tell him whenever_ \- Kiza

_like now_ \- Kiza

 

_Kiza took my phone, Your Majesty. Apologies_ \- Caine

 

_boring boyfriend stole back tech_ \- Kiza

_back on own_ \- Kiza

_with crappy service_ \- Kiza

_TELL HIM_ \- Kiza

_dad’ll listen to u_ \- Kiza

_UR QUEEN_ \- Kiza

 

_Majesty... Kiza says you have something to tell me... should I be concerned?_ \- Stinger

 

_Preparing for bed, Your Majesty_ \- Caine

 

_But no really... tell me now if there’s something, Majesty... bee’s gotta be prepared_ \- Stinger

 

_bored_ \- Kiza

_fucking bored_ \- Kiza

_balem bored?_ \- Kiza

_betcha hes bored_ \- Kiza

_poke him for me_ \- Kiza

 

_Majesty?_ \- Stinger

 

_... I cannot sleep, Your Majesty_ \- Caine

 

_HI!!!!!1111!!!!_ \- Kiza

_THANKS FOR ROAD TRIP! :))))_ \- Kiza

_okay that wasnt me_ \- Kiza

_guano likes texting i think_ \- Kiza

_AND TAKING MY BED_ \- Kiza

_shes goin back to kalique tomorrow_ \- Kiza

_should i fake her death or somethin?_ \- Kiza

 

_I assume you’re asleep by now, Your Majesty_ \- Caine

_I hope your dreams are pleasant_ \- Caine

_I will continue to keep guard until your return_ \- Caine

 

_u told him yet?_ \- Kiza

 

_Majesty... please tell my daughter to go to bed... I know she’s texting you..._ \- Stinger

 

_tell him ‘morrow he’s glaring at me_ \- Kiza

_also i changed my mind_ \- Kiza

_want my shirt back_ \- Kiza

_and the brACELETS_ \- Kiza

_little thief_ \- Kiza

_omg wait_ \- Kiza

_WAIT_ \- Kiza

_think t’sing is still up?_ \- Kiza

yeah she is shes on space time - Kiza

i’mma text her - Kiza

 

_Your Majesty - I hope this isn’t an imposition, but I’ve received a number of confusing and... colorful texts from the young Ms. Stinger. She has mentioned you numerous times in these missives and I simply wanted to insure that you and Lord Balem are well. Please do not hesitate to call if you should have need of me before the established time tomorrow. Yours faithfully, Chicanery Night_ \- Chicanery

_P.S. It is my further hope that this means of correspondence meets with your approval, as you were not receptive to my attempts at emulating Earthling texting habits. That is all._ \- Chicanery

 

_Good night_ \- Chicanery

 

_... oops lol_ \- Kiza

 

_TELL HER ‘BED,’ MAJESTY_ \- Stinger

 

_okay okay okay_ \- Kiza

_dad is serous now_ \- Kiza

_wish i could type out his serious face_ \- Kiza

_like_ \- Kiza

T___________T - Kiza

_only more grumpy_ \- Kiza

_so night night and all that_ \- Kiza

_(tell him tomorrow!!)_ \- Kiza

_Oh_ \- Kiza

_and guano says ‘night’_ \- Kiza

_only way more energetic U KNOW_ \- Kiza

_flick balem night for me!!_ \- Kiza

_*SMOOCH*_ \- Kiza

 

_THANK YOU, Majesty... goodnight_ \- Stinger

 

_Your Majesty? Kiza texted ordering that I say goodnight_ \- T’sing

_That’s fine by me :) Thank you for the (admittedly odd...) excursions_ \- T’sing

_Tell me how Lord Balem’s... predicament resolves?_ \- T’sing

_If it’s not too much of an imposition?_ \- T’sing

_Until our next meeting_ \- T’sing

_Goodnight to you both :)_ \- T’sing

 

_I love you_ \- Caine

 

Humming lightly, Jupiter typed a response to the last message—the exact same words—and then pocketed her phone. The rest of the texts would be waiting for her at the end of the day.

 

Balem would not.

 

She shook that thought away, turning to actually pay him some attention. Balem was on her lap but half sitting on the gear shift, watching in intense rapture as Aleksa drove the car. Aunt Nino was in the back, kept company by the mountain of cleaning supplies, periodically leaning forward to grin at them all.

 

“Friends?” she chirped.

 

Jupiter smiled back. “Yeah.”

 

“Boyfriend?”

 

“Shuddup.”

 

“You haven’t had many of those in the past,” Aleksa said softly, then immediately rolled her eyes. “ _Friends_ , Nino. Not boys. And Jupiter, don’t use that kind of language around the child. You want him picking it up?”

 

Jupiter very nearly laughed, thinking of the destruction Balem had caused both as an adult and a child. Instead she thread her fingers through his hair, resting her chin atop his head, admittedly surprised that he hadn’t commented on the language or their conversation. After all, how dare someone else speak to his Mama?

 

“Balem?” Jupiter felt him scoot back until he was pressed even closer against her. “What’s caught your interest?”

 

Slowly his finger raised, pointing at the suburban houses flying by. Balem craned his neck to stare even while his other hand groped blindly for Jupiter’s cheek.

 

“Earth housing is weird, Mama.”

 

Jupiter did laugh then, a sudden bark that had Balem bouncing in excitement. Her mother and aunt’s looks only made it worse. But Jupiter could see it: what did nearly identical houses, manicured lawns, and the occasional dog look like to a space kid? Especially one used to the kind of wealth Balem had been spoiled with? Nothing normal, that’s for sure.

 

“We’ve been traveling mostly at night, huh?” She murmured into his hair. “What? You want cold black corridors instead? Maybe some transparent floors?”

 

“Yes! Like my ship!”

 

“Your ship?” Aunt Nino cried. “Jupiter, Jupiter, what an imagination he has!”

 

“My mother’s name is _Seraphi_ ,” Balem said, somewhat absentmindedly, but still seriously enough that though Nino continued to shake her head, Aleksa glanced over, far more contemplative than Jupiter was ready for.

 

Soon.

 

For now, there was only one thing to do.

 

Keeping her movements slow, Jupiter angled her arm, approached Balem’s side, and...

 

“ _MAMA!_ ”

 

“Poke’s from Kiza. Get revenge on her.”

 

Passing another home, the sun warming the day and the breeze light, a teeny tiny growl came from a nondescript car:

 

“I will.”

 

***

 

If Jupiter was surprised by how smoothly their morning ran, their first house was even more of a shocker. Despite his permanent, bratty attitude, Balem enjoyed the work so long as Jupiter was the one helping him along. The Rochesters were regulars and as always her mom and Aunt Nino split between kitchen and bedroom while Jupiter took care of the baths. She’d wanted balance, but even Jupiter hadn’t been able to picture something like this: Queen, cleaning lady, and teaching an Abrasax how to properly scrub a toilet.

 

“You’ve gotta get the rim,” Jupiter laughed. She took Balem’s arm to properly angle the brush. “Wait ‘till I tell Chicanery _you_ cleaned a toilet.”

 

Balem looked back and if Jupiter had to describe the expression she would have chosen something along the lines of, ‘Done. 1000% done.’

 

“This is disgusting, Mama.”

 

“You’re disgusting.”

 

“No I’m not!”

 

“You keep telling yourself that...”

 

Jupiter ducked a (yes, _disgusting_ ) toilet brush and scooted backwards. With a huff Balem kept scrubbing and Jupiter pulled out her phone, snapping what was perhaps the most important photo thus far. It was while Jupiter was leaning to get the shot that her eyes strayed into the bedroom. Luckily her mom was in the daughter’s room across the hall and Jupiter jumped up, eyes honing in on the dresser.

 

“Hey, hey, _Balem_ —”

 

He went right into her arms, brush and all. Jupiter ignored the wet stains, quickly stripping off Balem’s massive gloves. Rushing over, Jupiter sat him on the bed, pulling down the small sewing kit she’d spotted.

 

“Mama?” Balem tilted his head like a tiny bird’s.

 

Jupiter knelt beside him, lightly grasping his ankles. “Heeeey. You remember my promise?”

 

“Promise?”

 

“That you could get your ears pierced?”

 

Jupiter watched in satisfaction as Balem’s eyes went wide, his mouth dropped open, and he started bouncing until the whole bed shook. There might have been a ‘yes’ trying to escape but there was too much excitement to form it.

 

“Alright,” Jupiter grinned. “But we’ve gotta move fast.” There wouldn’t be time between the other houses today—not before Balem had to leave—but he didn’t need to know that. “Aleksa can’t know, alright? She wouldn’t approve.” A decent excuse, given that it was the truth. “So you just sit tight while I grab some supplies. Can you do that?”

 

“Yes, Mama, yes, Mama, yes, yes, yes!”

 

“ _Shhhh_.”

 

Mrs. Rochester had always been exceedingly kind to Jupiter, encouraging her to take food from the fridge, cast offs that her daughter was no longer fond of, even the occasional piece of jewelry (more then one date had started off with Mrs. Rochester’s drops hanging from Jupiter’s ears). She took advantage of that generosity now, choosing a sharp needle from the sewing kit she’d spotted, a bar of soap from the shower, tissues, and the half bottle of white hidden in the nightstand (Jupiter had found the hiding spot a year ago. Mrs. Rochester may have loved her daughter dearly, but her remaining love for Mr. Rochester was waning...) Jupiter carried back the supplies, making sure to kick the bedroom door shut as she went.

 

“It’s gonna hurt,” she admitted. “But I’m gonna go out on a limb here and say that you’ve had worse.” Seraphi. Punishments and little boys bearing their wrists. Luckily, Balem only looked puzzled, his gaze drifting from his arm to the tree branches outside.

 

“Limb...?”

 

Jupiter chuckled. “Figure of speech. Now...”

 

She spread tissues along the bed, anywhere where blood or alcohol might drip, then proceeded to douse the needle and swab Balem’s ear with wine. He sat still, watching her every movement with wide, trusting eyes.

 

“This is the old fashioned way. They’ve got ‘guns’ now to do it real fast but this is how I got my ears pierced. It’s how I did Vladie’s too. It’ll be cheap and dirty, just like you.” Jupiter tickled his stomach and ignored the retaliating kick. It wasn’t like tiny bear toes did much damage. “I’ll do it quick, but I need you to hold reeeeeeal still. Got it?”

 

“Got it, Mama!”

 

“Right. Let’s do this before anyone comes looking...”

 

Jupiter took a deep breath, smelling alcohol and the dry shampoo she’d thrown into Balem’s hair that morning. His hands were gripping the front of her shirt, hard enough that she knew he was preparing for pain, but not trembling or otherwise showing that he didn’t trust her. He did. The rest of Balem was relaxed. So Jupiter leaned in, nearly hugging him, her one hand steadying his chin while the other pressed the bar of soap behind his left ear. She pulled the needle from between her teeth and pressed it gently against Balem’s skin.

 

“Ready?” Jupiter asked and then did it fast before he could tense up.

 

For a second they sat, completely still. Balem as still as stone. Jupiter felt the needle lodged in the bar of soap, a tiny bead of blood drifting onto her fingers. Quickly, she put them aside and pulled her own silver ball from her ear, slotting it into Balem’s. She stroked the reddening flesh and only then noticed that there _was_ a part of Balem moving. Rapidly.

 

His chest. Balem was breathing. _Hard_.

 

“Balem? Hey. Hey, hey, hey, _hey!_ ”

 

He didn’t respond. Jupiter pulled back, shook him, lightly tapped each cheek. Balem only stared past her, his eyes horrifyingly unfocused. His breaths continued to come in quick, shallow puffs as the rest of him held deadly still and Jupiter was just raising her hand to yell for help when she saw it.

 

The blood. Balem’s blood on her fingers. It was red, yes, but also... blue? _Yes_. There was a definite tint in the liquid, almost like minuscule, sapphire beads floating amongst his cells. From the corner of her eye Jupiter saw the color intensify and she turned, hardly breathing herself when she found a blue mist surrounding Balem. His mind was still elsewhere, but whatever was going on with his body was happening _now_.

 

Blue. Blue, blue, sapphire blue, mixed with bits of green and white and areas that were nearly transparent. It took Jupiter a terribly long minute to place, but when she did she had Balem back in her arms, crashing through the door, sprinting down the Rochester’s steps, blowing past her screaming family. Jupiter didn’t stop. Her mom and aunt couldn’t help them right now. That color, that _god-awful_ color...

 

She’d seen it before: when Kalique had stepped into a pool or Regene-X

 

“Jupiter!”

 

She didn’t stop, tumbling into the backyard and nearly falling. Jupiter spun and caught glimpses: her aunt with her hand covering her mouth; her mom rushing towards them; a man, mowing his yard, mouth agape at the frantic woman and the child, now glowing a ferocious blue. Jupiter thought it was dominating the whole world until she really _saw_ —that her mom was freezing in shock... the blue surrounding Balem’s little pocket was lighter in color... almost like...like…

 

“Your Majesty!”

 

The transporter. T’sing’s... no. _Balem’s_ ship. Older Balem’s. Not the one heaving staccato breaths against her neck, the rest of him limp as a puppet. Then there were arms, not hers, not Balem’s, but thin and pale and shaking her like she’d tried to shake Balem just seconds ago oh god _oh god_.

 

“Jupiter!” Chicanery, face against hers and shaking, shaking, shaking. “The doctors have been tracking his vitals from just outside the atmosphere. It’s happening _now_.”

 

Now?

 

“You have to give him to me...”

 

“ _No_.”

 

It was the most she could manage, but Jupiter said everything in that single word that needed saying. Everything. Balem had asked for her. She had come. She wasn’t about to just hand him off now.

 

“I’ll wait.”

 

Chicanery nodded, the movement nearly as shaky as the rest of him. Gently he maneuvered Jupiter into the middle of the transporter beam, careful not to touch Balem. He began to signal the ship as Jupiter looked out at her mom.

 

She was standing with Aunt Nino, the two women holding one another’s hands. They looked scared, shocked... hardly believing.

 

Bending forward, Jupiter pressed her lips to Balem’s tender ear. When she rose those lips, dotted just slightly with blood, and mouthed ‘I love you.’

 

The words flew towards her mom... and Jupiter _did_ love her, of course she did...

 

But in that moment they were meant for Balem.

 

“Love you,” she repeated. A statement. A promise. “Love you.” Jupiter let those words circle through her head as the three of them rose into the clouds.


	10. Epilogue

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello, friends!
> 
> Okay. Wow. Picked up a kinkmeme prompt expecting to write a short oneshot... some 45,000 unexpected words later... here we are. 
> 
> Thank you all SO much for sticking with this story. It means the world to me. And I hope everyone is satisfied with the ending. It's admittedly a different tone, but then again, Balem is now a different person... 
> 
> Thank you again! And ENJOY! :D 
> 
> *sprints off to write more fic*
> 
> *****UPDATE**** 
> 
> To everyone asking about a sequel... I actually don't know yet lol. I definitely won't be writing one right now (I've got five more huge writing projects to finish this summer) BUT once things calm down a bit I can start thinking about it. In all honestly, I pictured/wrote this as a 'finished' piece... but I'm also not swearing I'll never come back to this verse. So yeah. Sorry I can't be more definite ;__;

“If you think,” he whispered. “That a few days with you will erase hundreds of thousands of years…” Balem trailed off, almost smiling. “Well, _Mother_. You are either a fool or even more arrogant than I ever gave you credit for.”

 

Jupiter knotted her hands in front of her, framed in the very center of the doorway, Balem seated on his throne at the end of the hall. It was actually amazing that she could hear him from this distance; something about the high ceilings, pillars… or perhaps it was the sort of alien tech she could never hope to understand. Whatever it was, Jupiter knew that she was now standing exactly where Balem wanted her: exposed and far away.

 

“Your Majesty...” Chicanery whispered.

 

He was three steps behind her, nearly hiding behind her back. She’d seen the change in him immediately, an hour ago when he’d finally come for her in the Abrasax version of a guest room (large as a football field, decked out in an austere but affluent decor). He’d been wringing his hands just like she was now, his frame trembling, already a look seeping into his eyes that Jupiter knew would drive him to drink. Not that she’d been much better. A night’s worth of waiting, feeling like one of those actresses on her mother’s soaps as they paced hospital corridors—only, you know, in _space_. Jupiter had barely been able to look at her phone, partly because of the messages that might be waiting for her, more-so because she couldn’t stand to catch a glimpse of her own reflection.

 

Tired eyes she could deal with. Hopeless ones she could not.

 

Too bad for Jupiter, she was pretty sure her own expression was reflected back on Chicanery.

 

“Your _Majesty_ ,” he whispered again.

 

When he had arrived, hours after their separation, Jupiter had dared to turn on her phone for just the briefest second. It was her mother’s texts that she bothered to read. The first felt like Aleksa had deliberated over it for hours: “… It’s _not_ what we think, is it?” The second, sent just five minutes later, read, “I love you.” Jupiter wanted to send something back, but Chicanery had already been fluttering his hands before her. “He’s calling for you, Your Majesty.” He said. Again and again. “He’s calling.”

 

There was a time (hours ago? Days?) when Jupiter would have sprinted at such a call. Now she walked, head held as high as she could manage.

 

And here she stood.

 

“It’s okay,” she said, before Chicanery could open his mouth a third time. “Really.” Jupiter handed him her elastic—hair loose and deceptively comfortable—her jacket, and her now silent phone. In exchange Chicanery gave her a tentative “Good luck.”

 

Jupiter started forward. There was only one thing still tucked beneath her arm.

 

“Do you remember?” she called out.

 

The corridor was so long, far longer than the one she’d traversed six months before. The Balem at the end was different too, lounging with such arrogance it permeated the air. There’d been arrogance before too, of course there had, but now it felt… overdone. Even forced. Jupiter picked up her pace.

 

“Do you?” She snapped.

 

“You know I do,” he drawled. Balem raised his hand, admiring his own nails. Jupiter thought it was all for show until his wrist twisted, the door behind her slamming shut. Jupiter jumped. Of course she did. Jupiter jumped and Balem smiled.

 

“Do you know what I remember, Mother?” He said softly. Balem leaned forward, closing a few inches between them, even though Jupiter was still yards and yards away.

 

“I remember you. Beautiful. Glorious. Merciless and cold.” His hands came back up, held reverently before Jupiter’s form. “We ruled this galaxy. This universe. Do _you_ remember, Mother? Queen Seraphi and First Primary Balem. It was...” Balem trailed off. Jupiter watched, still moving forward, as his hands closed in—like he was drawing water for thirst. When they lowered Jupiter had to briefly lock her knees and ignore the urge to sprint. Blood was glistening along Balem’s palms, his teeth shining. He bent his fingers back and licked the last traces from his skin.

 

“It was delicious,” he finished.

 

Jupiter swallowed. “You should wash that out.”

 

“After our reunion, after you managed to reclaim your precious Earth—”

 

“Wash it out with water, Balem—”

 

“—I had thought, foolishly, that you were still here—”

 

“—we’ll call for antiseptic—”

 

“—that we could take back what we once had—”

 

“—stitch it if need be—”

 

“—but that’s just not possible now—”

 

“—some bandages—”

 

“Will you _SHUT UP!_ ” Balem finally shrieked. He tore off of his throne, stumbling forward, leaving smears of blood in his wake. He was heaving and Jupiter had a brief flashback to him heaving in her arms, bleeding from his ear. He’d had near the same expression on his face as he did now and Jupiter’s steps quickened.

 

“What did you think would happen? You _stupid_ girl.” Balem laughed. “Did you think I’d just ease right into this family of yours? Earthlings. Splices. Mortals! Did you think that BOOK was _anything_ but a means to an end? ”

 

Balem threw a hand out at the book tucked under Jupiter’s arm. Liam’s story. It was in Chicanery’s possession, given to him by Kalique, Titus to her, taken from Balem’s own room. Jupiter drew a soft thumb over the book’s spine, but she still held the text close. Balem reared back, then continued to meet her halfway.

 

They were close now. So close. It actually hurt Jupiter to stop her momentum, ending just breath away from Balem’s chest. She didn’t remember him being this _tall_.

 

Then. Balem shot out an elegant hand and halted her, even though there was nowhere else for Jupiter to go.  

 

“You are not my Cryian,” he said, calm once more. Deadly. “You are _not_ my mother.”

 

“Really.”

 

Jupiter raised a hand of her own, smiling when Balem didn’t back away. He did freeze though when her fingers rose higher… then settled around his left ear. Jupiter gently twisted the earring there—her own silver stud.

 

“Is that why you kept this then?” She murmured.

 

Balem swallowed.

 

“Well? It’s not as if you didn’t have time to take it out. Not like you _forgot_.”

 

Jupiter’s eyes snapped up and held Balem—pinned, drawn—boring into him with all the intensity she could muster. Everything from the last few days churned within her, from a little boy bearing his wrists to a happier one snuggling against her. They were still there, every version of him, and like _hell_ was she going to watch him shove them aside.

 

“You say that again,” Jupiter hissed. “Say it again! Fucking look me in the eye and say you don’t love me!”

 

Balem was silent.

 

They both were in truth. Except for their breathing—in sync. Labored…

 

“That’s what I thought.”

 

Suddenly, Jupiter felt oddly calm herself. Their breaths finally evened out. Balem’s shoulders rounded until he was closer to Jupiter’s height. Jupiter crossed her arms in a manner reminiscent of Balem. They mirrored one another for only a moment, but that moment was just long enough.

 

“Dinner,” Jupiter said. “Kalique, Titus, Caine, the Stingers, Chicanery… _you_. Thursday. I suppose that can be your answer.”

 

There might have been a nod at her words. Jupiter didn’t wait to find out. She turned on her heel and started back down the long corridor, creating physical distance between them; closing time as they both approached Thursday. Maybe Balem would come. Maybe he wouldn’t. But Jupiter was just enough of a betting girl to be confident in her wager.

 

She only paused when she reached the end.

 

“Oh and Balem? You’re still an idiot.” Jupiter raised the book, twisting it slightly so he’d see the blank cover. “It’s not the storybook, stupid. Chicanery’s got that. This is the photo album I had made while you were in Medical.” Jupiter idly flipped through some of the pages before laying it tenderly on the ground: the leather framed in the light of the opening door.

 

She started forward again.

 

“Try page six. I’m particularly fond of you cleaning toilets.”

 

Fin.


End file.
